


One To Remember

by Blue Eyes Black Dragon (OperaGoose), OperaGoose



Series: True Love's Kiss [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Curses, Demisexual Character, Identity Issues, Imprisonment, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Past Polarshipping, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/pseuds/Blue%20Eyes%20Black%20Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/pseuds/OperaGoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in a fairy tale world, Joey must protect Mokuba and find some way to break the curse so he can return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

“Let go of me,” Joey demanded. Kaiba’s hand tightened around his forearm and his step only quickened. The CEO was jogging, but Joey had to run to keep up with him. Mokuba, part of the track team at his high school, was faster than either of them and had disappeared a few corners ago. “I said let go of me, god damnit!” 

“No,” Kaiba replied stubbornly. He kept pulling Joey along. 

Joey turned his head, as if to call someone to help. The windows along the corridor were black, only shifts of dark purple to highlight the inky cloud pressing against the glass as if it could seep through. 

“Kaiba would you quit it?” He shouted, knowing there was no one around to help him anyway. His last resort was reasoning with the jerk. “There’s no point in running. We won’t be able to escape.” 

“Not by out-running, no,” Kaiba deadpanned. “Luckily I wasn’t stupid enough to think that overinflated tomb robber would never try something like this. I’m prepared.” 

“Prepared?” Joey repeated, disbelieving. “How exactly did you prepare for a transdimensional teleportation spell?” 

“Not that specific.” He came to stop at a pair of metal doors Joey would have assumed was an elevator. “But guarding against any sort of energy, so-called shadow magic included.” 

“What the hell are you talking about Kaiba?” Joey demanded. 

“A panic room,” he replied. “Of sorts.” Reaching forward he popped open the panel with a light push on what was probably a pressure magnet. There was a hand-shaped indent. “Only Mokuba and I can open it.” 

“What?” Joey asked. 

“I need you to go in there and guard him,” Kaiba admitted, his voice low. 

“Why exactly do you think I’d agree to that?” Joey asked. “Protect him yourself!” 

“It’s a _panic room_ , Wheeler,” the CEO snapped angrily. “It’s not designed to be opened from the inside.” 

“Only you or Mokuba can open it.” 

Kaiba nodded, his jaw clenched. Joey turned to face him, his chest aching slightly. “Why me?” 

Blue eyes darted away from his face. The adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. A gentle hand reached up to cup his jaw, fingers light against his skin. “I need you to protect him,” he said. “I don’t know what will happen to the room once this curse stupidity has happened. He might still be in danger.” He leaned closer, licking his lips and dropping his eyes down to Joey’s mouth. “You’re my next best choice for that.” 

Something was nagging at the back of Joey’s mind. “What about Serenity?” He asked, hating how coarse his voice sounded. 

Kaiba sighed and stepped away. “I’ll try and find her.” He darted his eyes at the windows as the walls groaned from outward pressure. “If I can, I’ll bring her back here.” 

… 

“I think it’s stopped.” 

There had been a lot of shaking and strange noises outside the room. A single window was high up the wall. For the last few hours - by his best estimation, he’d yet to see a clock in the panic room - it’d been utterly dark. But by now, there was a dim sort of light filtering through. 

It was the best indication Joey could find for Mokuba’s declaration. He looked around and dragged a chair over to the wall by the window. 

“What are you doing?” Mokuba asked, confused. 

“I’m going to look out the window,” he answered. “See what’s out there.” The teen didn’t argue. He climbed up onto the chair and rose up on his toes to look outside the window. 

“What is it?” Mokuba asked, coming over to stand nearby. “What do you see?” 

Outside the window, he could see trees and dirt for as far as the view out the window offered. He pressed his face against the window and then looked down as much as he could. He frowned and climbed back down to the floor. “There’s a forest out there,” he answered. “I’m pretty sure we’re living inside a tree.” 

“Like a treehouse?” Mokuba asked, confused. 

“No,” Joey replied, his eyebrows pulling together in a confused frown. “Like, inside the tree trunk. I’m not sure how it works.” 

He sat on the bottom bunk bed and hugged his knees. “When do you think Seto is coming to get me?” 

“I don’t know, kid,” Joey said gently. He sat next to the curled figure and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Bakura was talking about how we would never see each other again. He’s either separated us across a long distance, or he’s done something to their memories. Maybe a combination of both.” 

“But he will come find me, right?” The sixteen year old asked, his forehead creased in agitation. 

“If I know anything about your brother, Mokuba,” Joey said gently, “then he’ll find some way to come back to you. He’s probably mindless out of his mind with worry right now.” 

/// 

“Presenting, his royal majesty, King Set.” 

There was the usual applause. King Set strode up the aisle from the doors of the throne room, long white cape trailing the red carpet behind him. He turned as he reach the dais, swinging the fabric out of the way with a practiced movement. It hung over the armrest of his blue-marble throne, and he settled easily into the cushioned seat. 

“You may bring in the people,” he told his vizier. 

Enter the commoners of his land, who came to entreat him for something or other. A woman from a distant farmland told him that a wolf-creature had been spotted in the dense forests beside her village. She came to plead for his protection for her village. With an obvious tone of boredom, he announced that three guards would accompany her back to the village and clear up the matter. 

The rest of the audience went much the same. Pithy problems that could have been dealt with on their own if only these people could manage some mere common sense. He stood after the last person left. The lords and ladies milling about the throne room bowed or curtseyed in respect. 

“Today has been a generous day in the name of fealty,” he announced, his voice carrying about the entire room. “I expect you all to follow my example when it comes to treating with your own serfs.” 

There was a chorus of agreement, and then polite silence. Twitching his cape so that it trailed behind him in an orderly fashion once more, he strode out of his audience chamber. Once in the private corridors of his castle, he let his genial expression drop into its more stony countenance. 

He knocked on a familiar door and stuck his head in. Inside, he found the bedroom empty. He frowned slightly, unable to express the thought that was nagging at the back of his mind. This room shouldn’t be empty, but he could think of no reason why it ought to be supplied with people. 

Shaking his head, he adjusted the train of his cloak once more and continued on his way through the corridors. Another door, expensive mahogany gilt with elegant patterns, this one he merely pushed open without knocking. 

“My dear?” He called. 

One of the ladies in waiting bobbed into a deep curtsey. The woman they were attending to gave no such signs of movement. “How was the audience?” She asked. 

“Well enough,” he replied. “You ought to have been there.” 

“Your majesty,” one of the ladies said, bobbing. “The queen would have been there, but--” 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to address me,” he replied, glaring at her. She fell immediately silent. “It is a tawdry task, my dear Anzu, but it must be done.” 

“I will make an effort for the next audience,” she promised, giving him one of her innocent girlish smiles. They had not fooled him for even an instant, but he allowed her to believe that he was whim to her charms. 

“That is all I ask, my dear,” he replied. He kissed her cheek and, with a final glare at the impertinent lady, swung his cloak into place and left the room. 

He returned to his private quarters. He dismissed his gentleman with a curt wave. Unpinning his cloak, he let it fall to the floor. Something was pricking at his skin - metaphorically. His clothes were as fine as they had always been. 

Gently, he lifted off his crown and settled it into the cushioned case where it belonged when it wasn’t on his own brow. He took a moment to look at the circlet of silver inlaid with sapphires. He had the bizarre sensation that it was his first time looking at it, although he knew that he had worn it every day since his coronation. 

Like the empty room on the other end of the corridor, it picked at him. He was plagued by the wayward thought that there ought to have been someone in there. 

It was clearly a room for a cousin or son - the room of a royal family member who was not in direct line for the throne. A second son or a close cousin. 

Yet Set could not find in his mind any name of a person who ought to have lived in there. With a tired sigh, he closed his eyes and massaged his left temple with two fingers. 

The audience today was largely uninteresting. Though the news of a wolf-creature in the West forest was intriguing. It was probably an escaped curse victim from King Nisu’s realm. The man was a powerful magician and tended to deal with anyone he disagreed with by cursing them with some horrible punishment. 

Set had his own magic, it was not unusual for anyone in this realm and those nearby to have some sort of gift. Magic was a commonplace element on this isle, and royal families were known to have more skill than the commoners. 

He however did not flaunt his magic. He had other power, those of his own commanding presence and his position. If it came to his own protection, he was willing to use his skills, but was rather in the mind of why waste his energy when it was not a necessity. 

He would wait to hear back from the guards he was sending with the woman. If there truly was the presence of some creature in the village, he might go and deal with the problem himself. It had been years since he had enjoyed a good hunt and reaped its rewards. 

He steepled his fingers and looked at his own reflection in the polished mirror. For now, there was only to wait. To wait and to try and ease the discontent of his plagued mind. 

/// 

Bakura chuckled, waving his hand over the mirror. The image of Kaiba disappeared and he sat back in his huge cushioned throne. If his carefully constructed plans worked out well, Kaiba would hunt down Joey in his wolf form and kill him. 

It was fitting punishment for the snarling mutt who had dared face him down with such rash bravado. Not to mention, he smirked, and waved a hand at the mirror and brought up the new image. A pale hawk circled above the treetops of a forest, screeching. 

He wasn’t entirely cruel, couldn’t be within the laws of this world. It was a kingdom sewn from fairy tales. He had to at least give True Love a chance, however slim it was. 

Mai made a beautiful hawk. Come sunset, she’d be back to the beautiful woman she was originally. The moment the sun touched the horizon however, Joey would be forcibly transformed into a wolf. 

He waved at the mirror and frowned as it fell dark. “Isis,” he growled. 

The face appeared, dark skin with swirling black hair filling the rest of the glass. “Yes, Master?” 

It was a nice twist, he thought, the punishment he’d dealt for the Ishtar matriarch. Prior Fortune Cookie in the original world, here she was the all-seeing spirit of his mirror. 

“Where is the wolf?” He demanded. 

“The wolf, Master?” She asked, her voice ringing with false innocence. “To whom do you refer?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me, spirit!” he snarled. “Joseph, the wolf in the West Forest.” 

“There is no wolf, master,” she replied. A smirk tugged at her lips. “In fact, I can see no Joseph in this world at all.” 

He snarled. Grabbing the mirror from his table, he threw it to the ground and listened to the satisfying shatter. He kicked the frame over and saw her glaring at him from each shard. He turned around and sat down on the cushioned chaise on the other side of the room. 

With a wave of his hand, a small swirl of purple shadow magic formed in the middle of the room. When it cleared, Malik stood there. His arms were bound with golden manacles, a chain connected them together. As for the rest of him... well, Bakura had been generous allowed him to wear a plain shendyt. 

“Master,” Malik murmured, bowing to him. He looked uncomfortable, and Bakura couldn’t help but smirk. As far as the former tomb keeper’s memory told him, he was a recently acquired slave to the kind and hadn’t quite learned his place. 

“There is a mess,” he said, gesturing to the broken mirror. “Clean it up.” Malik gave him a confused look. “I’m sorry, was there something confused about my command?” 

“You have magic,” he said. 

“I believe that much is obvious,” Bakura replied curtly. 

“I mean, you could just-” he waved his hand towards the mess “vanish it.” 

“Why should I extend that effort?” He replied curtly. “Keeping my house is what you are here for.” 

The Malik he knew from their previous world would have argued and refused. This new Malik - Namu, he believed his name was - merely sighed and crossed to the shattered mirror. He knelt beside it, careful not to put his knee in any shards of glass. 

He started by picking up the frame, setting it in his lap and reaching for the different shards. Bakura settled back, basking in his victory for a few moments. 

Here he was, the most powerful and feared person on the isle, with every power he could imagine. With any mirror, he could check in on his victims and revel in their despair. The only person he had given a fully good life was his former host, Ryou. 

He summoned a hand-mirror and spied on him. He was happily laughing as he chased his little sister Amane around the house. His mother was inside the house, sitting at a spinning wheel. 

“Ouch!” 

Bakura darted his eyes over to his slave furiously. Malik was knelt on the ground, clutching his hand tightly. His finger was sliced open, red spilling over his hand and forearm. He grunted in irritation and vanished both mirrors in a gust of shadows. “Come here,” he commanded. 

Malik gave him a nervous look and approached. One hand was clasped around his wrist above the manacle, squeezing to reduce the blood flow. “I’m sorry, Master,” he mumbled. 

Bakura glared at him suspiciously. What was he apologising for? “Show me,” he commanded. Malik did so reluctantly, wincing slightly as he extended the hand. He waved his hand over the wound, sealing it up and ridding the blood. 

Lifting his eyes, he was surprised when he met Malik’s watching his own. “Thank you,” the slave answered. 

Bakura grunted and looked away. “I don’t want you getting blood on all my things,” he snapped. With a rough flick of his hand, he forced Malik back to his confined cell. He wasn’t in any danger, he told himself. He was just flush with his victory. 


	2. Chapter II

“What’s for dinner?” Mokuba joked half-heartedly. 

“Rice and a pickled egg,” Joey replied half-heartedly. Kaiba had built the shelter with longevity in mind. There was rice enough to feed them for months, two dozen pickled eggs, a wholesale crate of baked beans, a bunch of tinned sardines... 

They’d been in the shelter for a week now. Joey had tried to keep as much variety in their meals as possible, but it was painfully obvious they were both sick of eating plain rice. 

Not to mention Joey was getting a little cabin fever. He spent more time over the past couple days climbing up to the window than anything else. Mokuba was an indoors person - he was content messing around with games on his phone or the tablet he’d dug out of some drawer. Joey could play some games with him, but only for so long. 

“Great,” Mokuba groaned.

“Watch your tone young man,” Joey teased, smiling slightly. 

“Next time I have to tell Kaiba to put in a freezer and stock it up with real food,” he mused. Joey just smiled, didn’t answer. He stuffed his face with food to avoid being forced to talk.

Mokuba was convinced that Kaiba would have the opportunity to build another shelter. His belief that his big brother would find them and let them out soon. Joey couldn’t feel the same. As much as he wanted to trust in Yugi and Yami finding a way to break the curse...

Joey sighed. He had seen some things out the window. His first hint had been the location of the shelter. There was something about there being a hidden base inside a tree that had nagged at something in the back of his mind. 

Yesterday, he’d seen strangers marching through the forest. Most telling about them, however, was the things they were wearing. Three men walked by, dressed like a knight from any old-fashioned movie he’d ever seen. 

He’d sat by the window for perhaps longer than he needed to. He hadn’t seen anyone he knew yet, but he thought he would eventually. Surely Bakura’s curse couldn’t suck the whole world into the universe. He guessed that it’d swallowed up the Kaiba Resort; though he had no evidence either way. 

There was nothing much to be seen from outside the tiny window. He sighed as he finished his small bowl of rice. He’d been rationing the food, but he was far more generous with Mokuba’s appetite than he was with his own. Not only was Mokuba taller, he was still probably growing--he might outgrow Kaiba in a few years.

He chuckled a little at the thought. The CEO was obviously proud of how tall he stood above everyone else. Maybe he’d be humbled once his own younger brother outgrew him.

Joey felt his joking mood sink again. If they ever saw Kaiba again. If they weren’t stuck inside the shelter until they ran out of food and had to quietly let go. He shivered at the thought and shoved it away. If it came to that, he could probably smash the window in and climb out. 

That might happen sooner than they ran out of food. He was so stressed about being stuck inside the same four walls for so long. He took his half-egg and popped out the orange yolk. It didn’t taste as strongly of vinegar. He’d had the other half for breakfast this morning with a spoonful of beans. He’d probably have to cut their meals down to once a day. There was still plenty of food... for now. Who knows how long they were expected to be stuck in here?

“Want to play poker after dinner?” Mokuba asked, pushing plain rice around his bowl. “I’ve still got my winning streak.”

“How is that?” Joey groaned. “Luck used to be my thing.”

Mokuba chuckled. “There’s more to luck in poker, Joey. The sooner you realise the sooner you can learn how to challenge me.”

He gave a good-natured groan. “You’re getting just as bad as your brother when it comes to winning card games.”

Mokuba laughed, but there was a sour note to it. He looked glum as played with the last scraps of his dinner. He was missing his brother, Joey knew that look well.

He reached out and ruffled the mop of long black hair. “How about we play something else? Like Go Fish?” 

The night was filled with every card game they could play with two of them. Joey set down his last hand of Quick, yawning. “You win,” he declared mid-yawn. “I have to hit the hay, kid.”

“Okay,” Mokuba said, gathering up the cards. “I’m going to stay up a while longer on the tablet.”

“Not too late,” Joey said, groaning as he crossed to the bunk bed. “I’m not keeping quiet in the morning just because you stayed up too late.”

Mokuba rolled his eyes like the teenager he was. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “Go to sleep, Joey.”

“Goodnight, kiddo,” Joey said, kicking off his jeans. He’d have to do the laundry as best as he could tomorrow. Laundry, he thought disdainfully, more like filling up the bathtub with hot water and scrubbing at the fabric with the bar of soap they’d been left with. Joey had no clothes of his own, but he managed to share well enough with the emergency outfits Mokuba had stashed away in a cupboard. They were way better quality than his own clothes, but the alternative laundry style was messing with some of the dry-clean-only stuff. 

Eventually, he must have fallen asleep, because he dreamed about being surrounded by laundry. He was trying to clean off mud, scrubbing and scrubbing, but the water was already brown. After struggling for what seemed like hours, he held up his own shirt only to see a growing blood patch on the fabric.

He woke up with a short yell of a scream, launching into an upward position. He struggled with his breathing, looking around the room. From the bunk beneath him came Mokuba’s tired groan. “Joey?” He asked. “Are you okay?”

He took a shuddering breath. “Y-yeah,” he replied. “Just had a nightmare about doing laundry.”

Mokuba huffed. “Weirdo,” he groaned. There was the sound of fabric moving against itself, and the bed shifted slightly as the younger Kaiba brother turned over. “Go back to sleep.”

Joey rose up on his knees, pressing his face against the glass of the window. He’d made Mokuba help him move the bunk to the window a few days ago. It was far more comfortable to sit on the bed and look out than stand on top of a chair.

He paused, eyes going wide, and pressed his body closer to the window as if that would give him a better lookout. 

That was Mai. She was dressed in some old-fashioned type corset thing over a floaty off-white shirt and a pair of body-hugging leather trousers. She crouched on a tree branch and held her hands to her mouth as if copying some birdcall. She held out her arm, a leather cuff wrapped her forearm. 

In just a moment, a large nighthawk swooped down to land on the arm. She spoke to it a moment, then tilted her head as if she was listening in reply. A frown creased her forehead and she lifted her arm to let it fly away. 

Joey had wanted many times to be able to hear or shout through the glass of the window. He was tempted to bang on the window and shout, but the thought that Mokuba was sleep below him made him sit still. 

She looked around carefully, then jumped down from the tree branch. She slipped between the trees, moving through the forest as if she knew it better than the back of her own hand. 

Joey watched for a while longer to see if she would return, but flopped back down onto the mattress. He didn’t get to sleep, but made sure he stayed still until the sun was visible through the canopy outside the window. He climbed down the later, rolling his eyes at Mokuba who groaned at the movement of the bed frame. He headed to the kitchen, cleaning out the rice from the bottom of the rice cooker he’d left to soak overnight. 

The rest of the tin of beans went in there to warm and he debated over adding anything else to the breakfast menu. He was sick of the taste of cheap, fake tomato sauce and the texture of the white beans. Still, he forced himself to eat a few spoonfuls and left the rest of the pot for Mokuba whenever he woke up. He gathered up their dirty clothes - he’d started a pile in the corner, but the younger Kaiba tended to kick them under whatever piece of furniture was closest at the time. 

The bathroom was through a curtain, consisting of a european style toilet and a large bathtub they also had to use to wash their hands and brush their teeth. He turned the hot tap on and filled the bath shallowly. It was habit to check the pockets for anything, though he never found much. Sometimes stray game pieces or scraps of paper - both set aside to be brought back out. They had no resources here, nothing could be discarded and paper was rarer than anything. Kaiba was fonder of his advanced technological devices than he was of writing things down.

Probably because his handwriting was barely legible, which he and Mokuba had joked about before all this had happened.

He scrubbed at the clothes in the water with the bar of soup, paying careful attention to the places that gathered the most sweat. The underarm seam of one of Mokuba’s shirt separated and he swore gently. Maybe if he was lucky there was a sewing kit tucked away in one of the thousands of hidden drawers. He’d ask Mokuba later--that kid seemed to know where everything was. 

He wrung out the sopping clothes and hung them over the curtain rail. He placed a towel underneath to catch any dripping water and stepped over it to head out to the main room. Mokuba was slumped over the table, resting his face on his spare hand as he scooped up his breakfast with a spoon in the other. “Morning kiddo,” he replied. “There’s water in the bath if you wanted to wash before I drained it.”

Mokuba grunted in acknowledgement. Joey gave him a few moments to process the words. It took a minute or so. “Yeah, thanks.”

Joey nodded. He pulled out one of the last set of clothes left from the cupboard. He paused, staring at the fabric in his hands. He allowed himself a moment of melancholy.

This was Kaiba’s shirt. The one he’d stolen after the... Pool Incident. Any smell was long since gone from the fabric, so at least he was spared the embarrassment of smelling it like a love sick teenager. Or a dog, he added mentally. That burned up his bleak mood. Giving an irritated huff and a mental ‘not a dog’, he stripped out of yesterday’s clothes and into his new wear. 

Mokuba headed into the bathroom, dislodging some of the clothes as he drew the curtain closed again. Joey rolled his eyes and hung them back over the railing. He washed out the rice cooker and left it to dry next to the kitchen sink. 

He had seen Mai, and she was definitely not dressed like a modern day woman. She looked like one of those medieval hybrid movies were badass girls dressed in pants. Like that TV show based on fairy tales Serenity had made him watch last time she was visiting. 

His breath came hard through a tight chest. Serenity. He wondered what had happened to her. Kaiba had never come back after promising he’d try and find her. What was she doing, out there in the forest? If she was even in the forest. He didn’t know what this cursed world was like. He hoped that she had some kind of protection. She could take care of herself for the most part, but if some thug tried to attack her... 

He forced the thought away. It wouldn’t do him any good to drive himself crazy thinking about things he couldn’t figure out in this place.

As far as he and Mokuba had been able to tell from inside the panic room, the curse had flooded the hallway ten minutes after Kaiba had left. Joey told himself that there was no time for Kaiba to find and bring her back in that time... He sighed. If Kaiba had even gone to look for her. He’d said he would, but...

Joey had plenty of time in this room to think about his last moments in his own life. He may be easily fooled but he wasn’t an idiot. It never took him long to figure out when he was being duped. Kaiba might have said all the right words, might have used exactly what body language he needed to make Joey believe he was being honest... but those eyes. 

Kaiba’s eyes were very expressive, but most telling were the way they were cold and flat when he was bluffing. The CEO might have fooled Joey into thinking at the heat of the moment that there was some mutual feeling between them, but the lie hadn’t lasted longer than one or two recollections of the event.

Joey was mad, of course. Not that Kaiba was aware of his feelings, he could hardly be blamed for being perceptive or Joey for being obvious. His anger towards himself stemmed from allowing himself not only to be manipulated, but for his actions during the lust frenzy. His anger towards Kaiba also had the same reason, with the added bonus of fury at being purposefully manipulating to get Joey to do what he wished.

He probably wouldn’t abandon Mokuba at first opportunity, and he was glad to be free from the curse’s effects-whatever they were. He did wish that he’d been allowed his own free choice on the matter. He couldn’t know what choice he would have made--but he thought it likely that he would’ve made the same decision. 

His attraction to Kaiba, his own affectionate brotherly buddy thing with Mokuba, both probably would’ve meant he’d willingly enter the panic room. He would’ve fought harder for Serenity. Would’ve demanded Kaiba call her and tell her where to go. But he’d been clouded, fucked up by the events at the poolside, and distracted by Kaiba’s deceitful behaviour. He hadn’t had time to think about what he wanted. 

Mokuba came back out, wrapped in a towel. He quickly changed into the last set of clean clothes.

Joey waited until he was dressed and then asked: “what do you want to do today?”

Mokuba looked a little guilty. “I’m at a pretty important part of this computer game. I’m close to beating the big boss.”

Joey nodded. “Okay.” He would find something to keep himself occupied. 

///

“Your majesty,” the knight greeted, bowing deeply as he reached the ground at the base of the steps. “We have returned from the western village.”

King Set gave them a wave that indicated they ought to continue. He could hardly remember what it was he has sent them to the western village. Probably at the request at some common woman who had some sort of complaint their simple minds couldn’t find a solution to. The crown felt heavy on his brown, but he kept his head raised. This was his last order of royal business for the day. Then he could return to the royal corridors. After the standard visit to his queen, he would be free to do as he wished. 

“We believe there may have been some sort of mass hysteria event,” the senior knight continued. “We patrolled the forest for three days and nights, looked at the so-called evidence the village claimed to have.”

“Continue,” Set replied, impatient. He had remembered what the knights had been sent away for. There was a wolf-creature in the forest he wished to hunt down.

“As far as our investigations led,” a second knight explained, “there has been no such creature in the forest. The villages all report the same story--a wild wolf stealing their livestock, and a dirty blonde man skulking around the forest during the day.”

“A were-wolf?” Set asked eagerly, leaning forward expectantly. 

“Not precisely, your majesty,” the first knight explained. “The villagers explained repeated events outside the full moon. The more accurate explanation would be a cursed man.”

“If such an explanation was necessary,” the eldest knight replied, his voice gruff and impatient. “There is no evidence of such a creature other than the villager’s words. All livestock is accounted for, and there are no wolf-prints in the surrounding forest.”

Set had no measurement for his disappointment. “Then I hope the three of you enjoyed your vacation,” he snapped curtly. “You may return to the barracks.”

The youngest was not as skilled at hiding his disappointment as his senior knights, and the second knight had to kick his shin to have him bow and leave the throne room. He stood, sweeping the train of his cloak behind him with a practiced movement. Without waiting to be announced, he left the throne room.

Queen Anzu was spread out on her chaise, listening to her lady-in-waiting read aloud from a novel. The ladies paused, rising to their feet to curtsey to him. His queen barely turned her head to look at him. “It is so hot today,” she declared, as if that would explain her laziness.

It was barely Spring, but she was known to complain about anything that came to mind. 

“Perhaps, my dear,” he commented blandly. “You might like to visit the summer palace.”

She sat up, suddenly interested. The pearly sleeve of her dress slid further off her shoulder and down her arm. “The summer palace?” She asked eagerly. “On the other side of the forest?”

“At the seaside, yes,” Set answered. The mountains made it difficult to organise a hunting party through the forest. From the seaside palace, however... He smirked to himself.

Any wolf with any credibility to its name would have the ability to cover its tracks and allude the kind of stupid knight he’d sent to investigate. He had no doubt that out there was this...mutt. He would hunt it down and kill it....

After a moment, his thoughts recoiled away from the idea. No, perhaps he wouldn’t kill it. So far it hadn’t actually preyed on his citizens. But someone so volatile could not be trusted to left on its own. He smirked. Perhaps it would made an interesting pet. He could chain it in the throne room and use it as a conversation point. Or a threat towards enemy visitors. He leaned down and kissed his queen’s cheek. 

“If you desire to go, my queen,” he replied, using an affectionate voice that hid his own indifference from the ladies, “you merely have to say. I will arrange the court.”

She looked thoughtful as he stood and turned to leave the room. He paused outside the door of the empty bed chambers, a frown tugging at his lips. He shoved the thoughtless nagging away from his thoughts and turned, sweeping towards his own bedroom. 

He began the necessary preparations one he was in his own chambers. He occasionally glanced at the crown in its cushioned box as he composed letters to the necessary members of court declaring his intentions to head to the summer palace. It was far less grand than the mountainside castle, but for now it served his purposes to greater effect. 

Not to mention, he thought with a smirk, the irritating audiences with the commoners would not be forced to continue. His vizier would have to deal with the problems as they were presented. He could enjoy his journey, fill his free time with whatever struck his fancy. 

He rang the bell for his manservant and sent him on his way to deliver the letters to the appropriate hands. Then he motioned to a passing maid and sent her in secrecy to the stables to have his horse prepared. Word would say that he was travelling in the royal carriage with his queen. He intended, however, to leave at the earliest moment and serve his own purposes before the rest of the entourage reached the summer palace at all. 

With a smirk, he sought out his plainest hunting clothes from the wardrobe and changed out of the elaborate jerkin he’d sat at court in.

///

Bakura growled, waving his hand at the mirror again and banishing Isis from the surface. His own snarling face was all that remained. He jerked the cloth back over it and turned in his seat. 

There was still no sign of Joseph Wheeler in the forests or apparently anywhere on the isle. Isis had been frustratingly vague and entirely unhelpful in her offerings on the matter. It was as if Jou the wolf had never existed in this world except in the memories he had planted in the villagers. 

He balled a fist and leant his chin on it. His elbow propped on the knee hooked over the arm rest he continued to glare at the empty room. Unless Joey had done something stupid like kill himself before the curse reached him, there was no reason at all why he shouldn’t be present in this world.

His other hand moved to the other arm rest, drumming against the wood at the front of the rest. Ryou’s family were alive merely because he had willed it so in this world. Even if Joey had been stupid and cowardly, it shouldn’t have made any different as to his presence in the world. He growled slightly in his throat as the answer to the unspoken question continued to elude him.

There was a light knocking at the door of his room. He darted a gaze up to it, a scowl pulling at his brows. “Enter,” he demanded icily.

There was some shuffling beyond the door and then the handle bent. Malik backed in, a covered tray balanced in one hand. Once he was clear of the door, he used the other hand to steady it.

“What is this?” He demanded, impatient and angry at being interrupted.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Malik commented. He stood nearby, holding the tray’s handles with both his hands. “There was all that food in the kitchen, I assumed it was for me to prepare.”

Bakura frowned. He never felt much hunger, too many thousands of years without a physical form of his own--and the life of a thief in the time before that. This world had made food, because it was the logical thing for a king to have in his palace. When he’d felt this body weaken from starvation, he’d made food with his new magic. He’d never questioned where it had come from.

Malik shifted, bare feet curling slightly as the silence stretched further into a discomforting length. “Unless I was incorrect...? There are no other servants in this castle but me.”

“You’re very impertinent,” Bakura said instead, glaring at him. “You ought to address me properly.”

“You haven’t exactly told me what to call you,” Malik answered. His hands clenched around the handle of the tray. “In the desert... well, we had a tribe leader. But we didn’t have kings or anything like that.”

“I own you,” Bakura snapped. “You are my slave.”

“We didn’t have slaves either,” Malik answered, forehead creasing with his agitation. 

Bakura huffed angrily, exhaling air forcefully from his nostrils. “Master,” he snapped coldly. “You address me as _Master_.”

“Yes, Master,” he immediately corrected himself. He shifted again, silent for a moment, hands shifting around the handles. “If you don’t wish for the food, I can take it away, Master...”

Bakura snorted, seeing through that immediately. “So you can feast on a meal meant for a king? I shouldn’t think so.” He snapped his fingers and shifted the tray instantly from Malik’s hands to the vanity table before him. 

Malik’s hands gave an odd sort of spasm. The instinct of being suddenly empty, and trying to catch whatever had slipped from his grasp. He’d had the same tick back in the true world, whenever a more powerful force had made the rod slip from his grip. Bakura was almost glad to see it.

“Not at all, Master.” The quietly murmured answer snapped him from his focus on the tanned and calloused hands. He snapped his eyes up instantly to Malik’s downturned face. “I may not exactly know what a slave is,” he replied, hands shifting down to grip the fabric of his filthy shendyt, “but I understand what one on the bottom of the hierarchy is entitled to.”

Malik--Namu, the dessert nomad, had been a sort of prince in his tribe. That was, he was the son of a tribe leader, and would one day lead the tribe himself. The only way he could have that sort of information was by inflicting it on other people. That erased any sort of empathy Bakura had held for him in that moment. He yanked off the tray cover and looked down at the so called food he had been delivered.

“What the hell is this?” He demanded.

“Mashed lentils and green vegetables,” Malik answered, forehead creasing again at Bakura’s harsh tone. 

“Where is the bloody meat?” He snapped angrily.

Malik took a nervous step back. “It’s hard to find safe food sources in the desert, Master. I don’t know how it’s prepared.”

“Fucking useless,” Bakura shouted. With a burst of fury, he grabbed one handle of the tray and hurled it towards the door. The metal bowl clattered as it rocked and settled by Malik’s feet. The ground between them was splattered with pale brown mush.

The former tomb keeper watched the mess with an impassive expression. He gave a carefully controlled inhale and then knelt beside the bowl. He scooped what he could back into the bowl and glared at the remaining mess. “May I leave to fetch a cloth, Master?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“No,” Bakura replied, scowling. “Use that filthy rag you’re wearing.”

Malik’s cheeks flooded with blood, and his jaw clenched tightly. He unwound the shendyt without another word and started wiping up the mess as best he could. His state of dress hadn’t left much to the imagination in the first place, but Bakura couldn’t help his fascinated observation as he watched the muscles flex as he shifted. 

He swallowed the pool of saliva filling his mouth, trying to school his expression as Malik rose to his feet. The soiled cloth he dropped in the bowl. There he stood, naked as the day he was born; a defiant look on his place. The shoulders were set, his head raised proudly. He was not broken. 

“Was there anything else, Master?” He asked, his voice cool and indifferent.

Bakura snapped his fingers and watched a new shendyt of pure white linen wrap around the waist and thighs of his slave. “Never cook that shit again,” he replied curtly. 

Malik bowed in answer. Turning, he picked up the tray and left the room entirely.

Bakura grit his teeth and turned away, hands balling in to fists. This vexation was not what he had planned for himself in this new world. He would have to do something about it.


	3. Chapter III

Joey had managed to sleep through the night without being snapped awake by his nightmares. When he eventually stirred, eyes clenched tight as if that would help trap his sleep inside his head, he heard a bird chirping. He turned over with a groan, wishing it would shut up.

A frown pulled his brows together, thoughts slowly unfurling in his head. “Mokuba,” he grumbled, “as glad as I am that you found a nature video, I am trying to sleep. I thought you’d be glad to sleep in for once.”

The kid snickered. “I’m not watching a video.” He said it in that same tone of voice people used when they were trying to lead a person to figure out the correct answer that they thought obvious.

“Video game then, whatever - Mokuba, I’m tired.”

Another laugh. “Nope. Not a game.”

Joey groaned, He didn’t care, he thought bitterly, he did not care what kind of trick Mokuba was playing on him. If it wasn’t some movie, or some video game there wasn’t really anything else Mokuba could do to create the noise. Unless he had a leaf and was blowing into it--but where would he get a leaf while they were sealed up inside the shelter?

He sat up in a rapid shove, eyes darting to the door of the shelter. It was propped open with a shoe. “What did you do?” 

Mokuba laughed from his seat at the dining table. The kid looked exhausted--he clearly hadn’t gotten any sleep. “I haven’t really been playing a video game most of the time these past few days,” he explained. “I’ve been looking at Seto’s code; I figured out how to modify it to open the door from the inside.”

Joey scrambled down from his bunk, rushing to the door and yanking the shoe out. It closed with a hiss and there was a beep and a click as it locked again. “Do you know what could have happened when you opened it?” He shouted, feeling his panic swirling through his body. “You could have tripped the curse.”

“But I didn’t,” Mokuba pointed out, frowning slightly.

“You could have! We don’t know what the curse is! That was reckless and dangerous, you should’ve told me about it first.” 

The kid huffed angrily and crossed his arms stubbornly. “I thought you’d be grateful,” he snapped, “you’ve been pacing around this room and mooning out the window for weeks. Now you can get out.”

“We can get out,” Joey said, dazed. The realisation was like a gust of fresh air, he sunk to the ground to sit. 

Mokuba smiled. “Now you get it,” he teased. “I didn’t go out without you, I’m not that stupid.” 

“Of course not,” Joey said, pushing himself shakily to his feet. “You’re a damn genius, figuring out the code like that.” He glanced at the door and frowned slightly. “Can you get it open again?”

Mokuba nodded. He raised the tablet and swiped his finger across the fingerprint scanner on the back. There was a beep, a mechanical voice spoke: “Identity recognised: Mokuba Kaiba. Access granted.” The door beeped and jumped a little out its frame. 

Joey hooked his fingers around it and pulled it open slightly. Outside was more of the same forest he had glimpsed through the window on the other side of the shelter. There was warm sunlight glinting on the carpet of leaves and dirt and branches, and a light breeze blew his hair out of his face. 

He couldn’t help the content smile that crossed his face. God. Fresh air. Sunlight. He wanted to rush out and kick some leaves about, feel something natural for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

But he rationalised himself to take it slowly. He pushed his hand out of the doorway, watching to make sure nothing bad happened. A hawk flew into the clearing and perched on a branch. It seemed to stare at him and he drew his hand back. It could be a spy for Bakura, but after a moment it started preening itself.

He tried to calm down his own paranoia. It was most likely just a bird going about its day. He turned and closed the door again. “Okay,” he said. “Okay,” he repeated. “I’m going to wash, dress and then take a look around. Will you let me check it’s safe out there before you go out?”

Mokuba nodded. Joey sort of got the impression he wasn’t bothered about going outside at all. As he filled up the bath, he wondered on that point. Mokuba had mentioned Joey’s obvious cabin fever--maybe he had only hacked the controls so that Joey could get out. He didn’t quite know how to think of it. 

He changed into a loose t-shirt and his own jeans. Lacing up his shoes as tight as was comfortable, he asked Mokuba to unlock the door again. Hands on either side of the doorway, he leaned his face out to look around for any danger. The hawk on the branch tilted its head at him and he tensed his biceps carefully, ready to launch himself back if necessary. 

It didn’t move however. Turning his head, he glanced at the tree and was a little weirded out. The bark looked entirely unblemished--it was if there was no doorway at all. It was hidden, by some magic he would assume. He pulled back inside and rubbed his face. 

“We’ll need some sort of signal,” he mused. “Some way to notify you that I’m trying to get back in.”

Mokuba nodded and gathered his tablet as if he already had a solution. “The biometrics scanner by the door,” he announced. “If there’s an invalid scan it sets off a small alarm and takes a photo of the person outside.”

Joey nodded. “Only open the door for me,” he warned. “I’ll try not to be too long. But I want to climb a tree to look around the landscape.” He grabbed his leather jacket--for luck than any need for temperature control.

“Climb one by the window so I can see in case anything happens to you.”

Joey nodded and took a deep breath. He jumped out of the door and landed both feet, crouched on the ground. He stared widely at a bright white light that started crawling his feet. He darted a scared look back at the tree, but it was just a tree to his eyes. He knew they hadn’t been able to step outside the tree. He glanced down and saw the light had swallowed up his knees and half of his thighs. 

He closed his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to the silent wood. His apology was directed at Mokuba, who would have no company and no protection in the shelter. Then he spared a thought to Kaiba as well--he’d used all his tricks to get Mokuba safe and comfortable in the shelter.

His brows pulled together in a frown. It certainly was taking a long time for the light to kill him or whatever it did... He cracked one eye open and looked around. Nothing had changed in the clearing. There were still trees--and that hawk sitting on the branch, grooming itself as if bored with his antics.

He opened the other eye, confused. Something caught his attention and glanced down... well. He wasn’t dead at least. He was wearing some kind of not-quite-white shirt underneath his leather jacket--whose zip had disappeared and instead hung open. He checked it, agitated, but found little leather loops in one side and catches inside the other side--it could still be done up. Glancing down, he found his jeans and ancient trainers had been traded for brown wool trousers and a pair of soft-looking boots. He lifted his feet and looked around. 

So... the curse had changed his clothes? 

It could have been worse. He put a hand against the bark of the tree. It felt rough and contoured under the tough leather of his new gloves. Keeping a hand anchored on to it, he walked around the other side of the tree. There was a sort of knothole a few feet above his head on the other side of the trunk--like the hole cartoon squirrels lived inside in silly cartoon movies. He guessed that was the window inside the shelter, but he had no proof.

He leaned against the trunk and looked around. It was noticeably cooler outside the shelter, but it was still too warm for his jacket. Not that he was planning to take it off. There were flowers blooming like weeds at the base of the tree and some fruits in the bushes--he guessed it was springtime. 

Tilting his head up, he checked the treeline. Selecting the one that seemed sturdiest as it got towards it. It was a jump to reach the first branch, but he managed to hook his arm around it and walk up the trunk to sit on it. One knee clamped tightly around the branch, he stretched up to grab the next branch. Holding tightly on to it, he carefully got to his feet. 

Slowly, he climbed the tree. About halfway up the trunk, he ran into a snafu. There were two branches just out of reach, on either side of the tree. He could stretch for one, but it would leave the other definitely out of reach. He didn’t know which one would make his climb easier.

He clung to the trunk, frowning and looking between them. He ducked his head as he heard a flutter of wings, expecting to be swooped by some bird that thought he was too close to her nest. Instead there was more fluttering and the noises settled somewhere above his head. Uncurling from his wince, he looked up. A hawk was sitting on the branch to his left, watching him unblinkingly---well, birds couldn’t blink, but the same sort of intense concentration seemed to show in the bird’s posture.

He frowned slightly. It wasn’t just a random hawk, was it? It was that same hawk that had been hanging around and watching him make a fool of himself at the door of the shelter. He huffed a laugh. “Glad I could be of some amusement to you,” he said to it. 

He may have gone a little crazier in the shelter than he realised. He was talking to a bird. 

He shook his head and looked between the two branches again. He had to make a decision, he couldn’t cling to this trunk forever. He sighed. “Got any ideas, birdie?” He asked.

There was a slight thunking. He glanced at the hawk and saw it tapping at the branch a couple of times with its beak. 

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “I thought only woodpeckers tapped at trees like that.”

The bird squared him with its gaze. It opened its wings and flapped them a few times, giving a screech. He winced slightly, but watched as it tapped the branch once more with its beak. 

He sighed. “Alright. Just like a fairy tale. Do what the woodland creatures tell you.” Reaching a hand up, he managed to grab the branch and struggled his way up to grab on. He was glad for the gloves and tough leather of his jacket. His legs were feeling a bit tender from all the scraping against the bark.

The bird hopped a few branches ahead of him, showing the path up to the top of the tree. Once he was at the top, he clung tightly to the thin trunk and took a deep breath. Exertion or height or simply the thought of it made the air seem thinner. He breathed deeply, feeling the spinning of his head pass. He realised he hadn’t even eaten breakfast in his desperation to get out of the shelter.

Shaking his head at himself, he opened his eyes and looked around. It was... beautiful, in a picturesque sort of way. It reminded him a little of Duellist Kingdom. There was the ocean to the West, the rooftop of a fancy palace visible on the coast. Dense woods stretched between there and here, occasional birds dipping in and out of the treetops. Little flumes of smoke here and there told him that there was villages or habitation about.

He’d seen Mai, of course, but it was good to know that there was people about. He shifted his position, turning his eyes away from the setting sun to look South. There was grassland that way, with some rolling hills. A huge, elaborate castle floated in the sky above the hills. Beyond that he could see a glimpse of yellow--desertland, he assumed. Squinting, he could see a pointed top. A pyramid, maybe. Bakura did come from Egypt as well.

Craning his neck around backwards, he saw Eastwards to small mountain range. Another castle was stood against the mountainside, made of pale stone and capped in...blue marble. He snorted. “Of course Seto Kaiba lives in a castle,” he deadpanned.

The bird, who was perched on the very top branch of the tree, craned its neck back to look at him with almost suspicious eyes. 

He just shook his head and brought his head back around, shifting to look north. He winced slightly, that was just some boggy marshy swampland or whatever it was called. He didn’t know the different between those. Ryou had tried to tell him, during a tabletop RPG at some party, but it hadn’t stuck.

He looked around the forest and sighed. Best go back down and tell Mokuba about his vantage. He shifted in position and reached a leg down for the next branch. The hawk fluttered angrily, and he darted his gaze over to it, confused. He eased his leg back up and frowned. “Why don’t you want me to climb back down?” He asked.

The feathers ruffled again, and he figured he’d been too loud. The hawk gave him a sharp look, launching down to fly beneath the treetops. He laid himself flat on the branch and followed its arc. It flew about, passing over a brunet figure dressed in brown leather clothes similar to his own except... nicer, he guessed. 

The face turned up to look up at the passing bird and Joey forced himself not to cry out. That was Seto Kaiba! He nearly climbed down to yell to him, but the ruffled insistence of the hawk kept him silent. Then he noticed the crossbow clutched tightly in Kaiba’s gloved hands. He was...hunting? 

His eyes swept along the forest, and he continued on his way. The hawk pursued him, and Joey waited until it returned before he made his descent. By the time he was on solid ground, the sun had set and the hawk had long since disappeared from sight.

He took a deep breath and brushed off all the dirt, bark and splinters that had gathered on his clothes. He raised his eyes and froze as he saw Mai standing nearby. He had the strange urge to go for a weapon, but the calm expression she was wearing eased his paranoia.

“Mai,” he greeted, wary.

“Jou,” she returned, then tilted her head slightly. “Or perhaps not. Not the right one. My Jou would be a wolf with the sunset.”

Joey furrowed his eyes. “I’m guessing you don’t remember duellist kingdom and battle city and all of that, then.”

“Those phrases mean nothing to me,” she agreed. “What kind of wizard are you, then?” She asked.

“Uh, I’m not a wizard,” he replied. “Just a guy who got caught up in some stuff.” He gave the usual self-deprecating grin that used to get Mai off his back. 

Her expression remained unmoved, however. “King Set is hunting my Jou,” she answered. “Or a wolf-creature,” she added. “You fit the description. I’d hide back in your tree.”

Joey frowned slightly, but vaguely remembered Mai talking to the owl--perhaps she’d spoken to the hawk from earlier. He nodded. “I can’t stay in there indefinitely.”

Mai’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “It would be safer,” she advised, “to stay inside. The king’s movements are erratic and unpredictable. There’s no telling when you might meet him.”

“I am not afraid of Seto Kaiba,” Joey replied, clenching his fists angrily.

“That’s not who he is,” she warned. “King Set is ruthless. It was said he had a younger brother, but nobody has seen him. They say the king murdered him in a fit of boredom.”

Kaiba would never hurt his younger brother. The rumours and the suspicion were probably the result of Mokuba avoiding the curse. 

“I’ll be careful,” he promised. “I’m not looking to run into any danger.”

She snorted a sort of disbelieving laugh. “If you’re anything like my Jou,” she replied, “then you will anyway, regardless of your intentions.”

He laughed, heartily--and it wasn’t until he realised the strangeness of the feeling that he hadn’t had much opportunity for mirth while being cooped up inside the shelter. It just demonstrated further how clear it was that he couldn’t go back to being trapped inside again after he’d tasted this freedom. 

She shook her head, the tangled blonde hair shifting across he shoulders. Mai had always kept her hair neat and perfectly styled; here it was different. It was still long and still blonde and still somewhat curly--but it was a natural curl instead of the painstakingly styled waves she worked for. (The two weeks he’d practically lived with her were a very educational experience.) Instead of a hairband or ribbon, the masses were bound together by a lock of hair that had sort of dreadlocked into a stubborn knot. There was even a few leaves and twigs tangled up in the masses. 

He reached forward to pluck one out, but a stinging slap knocked his hand out of the way. Drawing his hand back instantly, he mumbled an apology. Right. This wasn’t the Mai he knew. He was a stranger and Mai did not take well to strange men grabbing at her. “You don’t need food or anything do you?” He asked, concerned.

She snorted slightly. “I can hunt for myself.” She gave a judgemental glance over his own considerably smaller-than-usual frame. “Which is more than can be said for you, I’m sure.”

He reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “Yeah,” he said. “We’ve got food in storage. It keeps us fed.” The unspoken ‘though it’s not at all appetising by now’ was clear. 

She shook her head. “A kept man. I’m not surprised in the slightest.” She froze slightly, tilting her head to listen. She rose one arm and a nighthawk landed on her arm brace. She met its eyes for a moment, then tossed it up to fly away. “King Set is a mile away. You should go back to your tree.”

“Geez,” he groaned, rubbing his face. “He’s determined to hunt me down, isn’t he?”

“Not you,” Mai said. “The wolf. My true love.”

The situation clicked in his head and groaned. “You’ve got some sort of Ladyhawke curse going on don’t you?” He asked.

She tilted her head. “I don’t know that name. But yes, I have a hawk curse. Hawk by day, human by night -- my Jou is human by day and wolf by night. One day we will meet and break the curse.”

“By true love’s kiss, yeah, that’s the story,” he said. He sighed. “Sorry about that. You must’ve been excited when you saw me.”

“A little,” she replied, then shrugged. “But you’re very different.” She turned and started walking to the treeline, swinging her long mess of hair over her shoulder to hang down her back. “You’d best go back into your shelter. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Joey,” he called. “They call me Joey.”

She smiled, glancing over her shoulder. “My name is May.” Without another word, she hurried off into the forest. He sighed heavily and headed around the trunk, feeling his way to the other side. He stopped near where he thought the door was and paused, confused. There was no panel for the hand-scanner. How was he supposed to notify Mokuba that he was out here? 

Squinting in the dim light of the slight moon and stars, he felt his hands along the trunk. There had to be something. About the level of his head, there was a kind of large knot in the trunk--like a branch had fallen or been sawed off. Nervous, he pressed his hand against it and waited.

After a minute he dropped it down and sighed heavily. Maybe he could stand on the other side and wave at the window until Mokuba came to get him. He glared at the bark of the tree angrily--why couldn’t it just work out as it was supposed to.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a sharp scream of surprise, as a hand suddenly loomed out of the bark. When his head calmed, he realised it must have been Mokuba’s. Grabbing the wrist, he used it to pull himself inside the shelter. As he passed through the false bark, his clothes seemed to disintegrate back into the things he’d been wearing before he left the shelter.

He kicked the door shut and gave a heavy sigh. “I was worried it hadn’t worked,” he admitted.

“I figured that’s why you were standing there like a dumbass,” Mokuba snickered. “How was the climbing?”

“Interesting,” he admitted. “Were you looking?”

“For a bit,” Mokuba said, shrugging. “Not for too long. It’s pretty boring to watch you climb trees, you know.”

“Brat,” Joey laughed, reaching up to ruffle Mokuba’s hair. “When I was a kid I would’ve be glad of the entertainment watching someone climb a tree gave.”

Mokuba looked horrified. “Did you not have video games?” 

Joey laughed slightly. “At the arcade,” he replied, “when I was even allowed to go.”

Mokuba laughed, but didn’t continue the conversation. Joey’s childhood was a general no-go zone, and he steered clear of the orphanage years in return. “Can we go out tomorrow?” He asked.

“If it’s safe,” Joey promised. “I’ll teach you how to climb trees, kid.” He climbed up to his bunk and sat with his back to the wall, relaxing his heavy, tired limbs. 

Mokuba huffed. “Because that worked out so well last time,” he grumbled. Joey grinned, remembering the incident he alluded to. 

After high school, Kaiba had hired Joey as a sort of babysitter for Mokuba--at the kid’s insistence, he was sure. It payed pretty shit for the round-the-clock call hours and all the mischief the younger Kaiba got up to when he was bored; but still more than any minimum wage job he’d been able to apply for. When Mokuba turned fifteen he insisted that he was old enough to go without supervision. Joey had been politely fired, with a decent severance pay and a personal recommendation from the CEO of an international tech business. 

He managed to get a job at a retailer that sold KaibaCorp product, running the gaming section. He was assistant under-manager, but he only got fifty cents more an hour than the normal cashiers. He sighed heavily, leaning his head against the wall as he sat in his bunk. He’d been promised a promotion, actually, a couple weeks before this whole incident had occurred. Would it still be there when he got back?

He frowned slightly. What had happened to the real world while they were here? Were their bodies just missing, or was it some kind of coma situation? Or had they been erased from existence by the curse--had the _real_ world been erased from existence? 

“Have a shower,” Mokuba yelled, tossing a towel at his face. “You’re filthy from climbing trees all afternoon.”

Joey rolled his eyes and climbed back down the bunk. “Alright, calm your pants,” he said, heading to the bathroom. “We’ve gotta talk afterwards though, okay?” Mokuba gave a whine that indicated just how much the teen was looking forward to it. 

What should he tell the teen? He wondered as he turned on the shower head instead of the bath tap. About Mai-May and her presence in the forest. He sighed, scrubbing at his face with his hands and watching the water turn brown. May. Shit. Bakura clearly thought they still had some romantic involvement, had used it to punish them. If he remembered the Ladyhawke story from that tv show properly, the only way they’d been able to break the curse was by meeting during a lunar eclipse. The ex-spirit however had added another layer to the game to prevent that from happening. Kaiba.

Kaiba was hellbent on killing him. Whether that was leftover hatred from the real world, or some obsession Bakura had planted in his mind like false memories. He didn’t think Kaiba was interested in killing him, but King Set was definitely on a hunt. Didn’t he have a kingdom to run or something like that? He was a king after all.

He sighed heavily, scrubbing his hands through his hair and wished for any kind of shampoo. His hair had gone past its greasy stage to resembling clean hair, if not from the awful itching scalp and dandruff. 

Was he going to tell Mokuba about Kaiba? He’d want to know that his brother was alive and well... but how would he react to finding out that Kaiba was stalking around the forest with a crossbow? He shut off the water and headed over to the bathroom cabinet. Towel around his waist, he pulled out the comb and dragged it through his hair to get rid of any knots.

He’d tell Mokuba about Mai, and their conversation. He’d share his theory with the kid about Bakura’s curse. He’d mention about the alternate memories and see how he reacted. Then he’d decide what exactly to tell him about Kaiba. 

He dressed in a pair of clean boxer shorts and the t-shirt that was kicked in the corner. His heart gave a dull thunk as he realised it was Kaiba’s shirt again. He needed to tear that up and get it out of his head already.

He headed out of the bathroom and was surprised to see Mokuba serving up something from the rice cooker. “You cook?” Joey asked, surprised.

The teen shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “A little,” he replied, “it’s a rough fried rice. Rice, egg, clean beans and some sardines mixed up together and cooked. One of Kaiba’s ex-boyfriends taught me how to cook it.”

Joey’s brain screeched to halt. He stared at Mokuba, his mouth hung open. He could barely comprehend the words he’d been tribute to.

“What?” Mokuba asked, frowning at him with a confused look, “What did I say?”

“Kaiba’s ex-boyfriend,” Joey repeated, his voice strangled a little.

“Well, yeah,” Mokuba replied, rolling his eyes. “He’s not a robot; he has needs. He’s not asexual either, so those needs tend to be other people.”

“The relationship was not the part I was confused about,” Joey replied, swallowing. “I’ve seen him leave with his dates. I used to babysit you for him,” he reminded the teen.

“Oh, the guy thing,” Mokuba said, as if it hadn’t occurred to him what Joey would be confused about. He frowned at Joey. “I didn’t really strike you for a homophobe. Seto’s a bisexual or a pansexual--he wasn’t really clear about the matter. He says it’s weird to talk about sex stuff with me.”

Mokuba was throwing around a lot of terms Joey didn’t really understand. He took a seat, pulling the plate close but not going to eat it yet. 

“Why are you surprised, anyway?” Mokuba asked. “You and him were fucking at the pool during Ryou’s spell.”

Joey spluttered, glad he wasn’t eating because he would have choked and died from embarrassment. That was still pretty tempting actually. “Mokuba!” he cried, horrified. “Dude, no. I’m not talking about it.”

Mokuba rolled his eyes. “You’re both the same. I’m sixteen, you know. I have an internet connection. None of this stuff is new to me.” He tilted his head and wrinkled his face up. “Though I could do without actually seeing Seto fuck anyone ever again. He _is_ my brother.”

Joey thought his face might be a luminescent crimson from how hard he was blushing at that moment. “Mokuba,” he strangled. “No.”

“Which reminds me,” Mokuba continued, ignoring his protests. “We wondered about you. Seto said you dated Mai for a while, so you were probably straight. But I’ve seen the way you look at my brother so you can’t be totally hetero. What’s up with that, by the way? Why can’t you just ask him out.”

“I’m not...” Joey stumbled, tripping over the questions and his answers in a tangled mess. “I just... I liked Mai... I don’t know. I just... like who I like. I haven’t really been attracted to enough people to know either way.”

Mokuba hummed, tilting his head and moving his eyes up and around as he considered the fact. “Maybe you’re demisexual. Either way, Seto owes me five percent of Kaiba Corp.”

Joey didn’t know what to process first. The fact that the Kaiba brothers apparently discussed Joey’s nonexistent sex life on a regular basis, the fact that they bet with shares of their own company or... “You guys bet on my sex life?” He demanded, outraged.

Mokuba snickered. “Not just you, don’t worry,” he replied. “We’ve also got bets on when Duke and Tristan realise that Shizuka isn’t interested in either of them and that all their competition has been repressed sexual tension; whether Yugi and Yami will get married or just keep on; which Ishtar sibling comes out first; and whether Shizuka and Mai are actually in love with each other or whether it’s just a girl power friendship--”

“Enough!” Joey protested. “I don’t want to know about my sister and Mai.” 

Mokuba laughed again and started eating.

The mention of the older woman brought his thoughts out of the confused haze of the Kaiba brothers’ personal brand of insanity. “Hey, kid. Is this a distraction so we don’t have to talk about stuff?”

Mokuba gave a heavy sigh, mirth evaporating. “I was hoping I could make you forget about all that.”

Joey huffed, amused, and gestured around the shelter. “A lot of reminders,” he pointed out. He lifted his own spoon and started to pick through the meal. “To be fair, I’d forgotten about it until you brought Mai up.”

“Damn,” Mokuba said lightly. “Wait, what about Mai?”

“She’s here. In the forest. Did you see the hawk that was hanging around?” He asked.

“The one that was mocking you for your inability to climb a tree? Yeah,” he replied. He frowned again, nose wrinkling in confusion. “What about it? Is it one of Mai’s harpie ladies or something?”

“Not quite,” he replied. He took a deep breath, deciding to just jump straight in and be blunt with the whole thing. “That was Mai. She’s a hawk during the day here.”

Mokuba frowned slightly, processing the information. “Like a shapeshifter?” He asked eventually.

“Ah, not really,” Joey answered, trying to dig his memory of creatures from Ryou’s RPG nights from the depths of his mind. “She has no control over it. It happens at sunrise and sunset, I’d guess.”

Mokuba frowned slightly. “Wasn’t that a movie or something?” 

Joey shrugged. “Might have been. But we never thought Bakura was original, did we?”

Mokuba chuckled. “I guess not,” he replied. “So, it’s some kind of faux medieval period out there?”

“Sort of,” Joey said. He folded his arms. “My guess is some sort of fairy tale, RPG setting. We’d best hope Ryou didn’t help him build it.”

Mokuba paused, remembering the few campaign he’d been present at and shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a world Ryou had helped build against them. He swiftly changed the subject. “So, is Mai going to bring Seto to us?” 

Joey tensed, then sighed deeply. “Well, she doesn’t exactly remember our world, kiddo. I’m guessing no one here does--except Bakura. He would want to remember so he could gloat in his victory. She thinks she’s a woman of the forest named May.”

Mokuba frowned. “If they don’t remember,” he said, “how is Yami supposed to break the curse?” 

“That’s probably why they don’t,” Joey replied, “it’s just like Bakura to stack the deck in his favour.”

“Okay, now we’re mixing metaphors,” Mokuba complained. “Is this a card duel or a tabletop RPG?” 

“Neither,” he said tiredly, rubbing his face. “This, for some bizarre reason, is real life. And we’re stuck here. Did you say Yami has to break the curse?”

“Yeah,” Mokuba said. “Bakura was gloating about it before you reappeared.”

“Did he mention how he was supposed to do it?” He asked. 

“He said the world we were going to had its own rules about breaking curses,” the teen answered. “I suppose Yami is just supposed to figure it out.”

Maybe if Mokuba was safe here, he could get out and find Yami to help him out. He thought about Kaiba traipsing the forest and let the half-plan die out. It was too dangerous to be out there right now. Perhaps Yami didn’t need his memories--he was involved in this fairy tale world, he’d instinctively know the answer to breaking curses.

Joey groaned, letting his head drop to the table. “Damn.” 

“What?” Mokuba asked, confused.

“Fairy tale world. Curses.”

“I don’t get it.”

“True Love’s Kiss,” he replied. “That’s always the answer in those stories.”

“Oh,” Mokuba said, wrinkling his nose a bit. “So, Yami and Yugi have to get together and kiss each other. Gross.”

“What are you, five?” Joey asked, rolling his eyes. “You’ve seen them do more than kiss by now.”

“Still stupid and sappy,” the teen shrugged.

“Well, fairy tales are were most of the cliché things came from,” he answered. 

“So... Mai doesn’t remember anything?” Mokuba returned to the last point. “Does that mean she can’t help us find Seto?”

He sighed heavily. “About that, kiddo...” He had to tell him the truth. It just wasn’t fair to keep any information about Kaiba away from his younger brother. “She knew about him, or at least who he is here.”

Mokuba leaned forward eagerly, a smile breaking across his features. “Can she help us find him? Who is he?”

“His name here is King Set,” Joey said, giving him a weak smile. “You would’ve been a prince if you’d been part of the curse.”

Mokuba gave a slight laugh as he leaned back in his seat. “I practically am anyway,” he laughed. “So can we go find his castle?”

“There’s more.” He pushed away his plate, not really aware that he’d been eating it in the meantime. “He’s in the forest right now. You might’ve seen him if you’d kept watch out the window for longer.”

“He’s here?” Mokuba asked, jumping to his feet in excitement. “Can we go see him?” He paused, looking at Joey’s expression. “There’s something you haven’t told me.”

“I’m getting to it,” the blond promised. “He won’t remember either, Mokuba. There’s no saying that he’ll recognise you now.” He took a deep breath. “And he’s on a hunt to kill me.”

“He’s what?” Mokuba deadpanned, confused. 

“On a hunt,” he replied. “To kill me--or rather, who I would have been if I’d been under the curse.” 

“Seto would never do that,” the teen protested. “Sure, he wants to humiliate you in a duel-”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome--but he’d never try and kill you.” He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Saw him wandering around with a crossbow myself,” Joey confirmed. “I would’ve run into him if it wasn’t for Mai. She’s the one that warned me he’s on the hunt.”

“But he wouldn’t do that...”

“He’s not himself here, Mokuba,” Joey reminded him gingerly. “He’s got all new memories, Bakura may have even been able to implant an obsession in his alternate personality.” He got a dubious look in response. Raising his hands, he defended himself, “look, I don’t know. I’m flying blind here. All I know is I saw Kaiba stalking around the forest with a crossbow looking very determined and Mai told me that he was hunting for my fairy-tale counterpart.”

“So what do we do?” He asked.

“I’m not sure. That’s what we need to talk about.” He rested his chin on his hand and looked at Mokuba carefully. “Mai said that there was a prince, younger brother to Kaiba but no one’s seen him. They think he’s been killed by the king.”

“That’d be me,” Mokuba said, frowning deeper. “Is it because I wasn’t part of the curse? Would he remember me as his brother if we approach him now?”

“I don’t know,” Joey admitted honestly. “I can ask Mai how long the rumours have been circling for.” He paused. “But I don’t want you going after him until we know if you’ll be safe or not. Is that alright with you?” 

The teen gave a deep sigh. “It’s the smart thing to do,” he agreed, “but I want to see my brother again.”

“You will,” Joey promised. “Once we’re both sure it’s okay for you to see him again. Then I swear I’ll return you to him.”

Mokuba nodded and stood. “Can you clean this up? I want to get some sleep.”

Joey knew he was more upset by the situation than he let show, but there was nothing to be done about it. They were still trapped here. The door may open, but their safety still kept them enclosed inside. 

He finished cleaning up the dinner stuff and switched off the light. He shimmied out of his jeans, folding them onto the cupboard shelf. He climbed up to his bunk in just a shirt and boxers, pausing as he settled on the mattress. His body was heavy but his brain was hyper like he’d drunk too much coffee. Instead of fruitlessly lying down, he shifted over to the window and rested his chin on the sill. 

He was surprised to see Kaiba shifting through the trees. Didn’t that guy have anything better than to stalk an imaginary person? He paused in a shaft of moonlight and Joey felt his breath catch. It’d been a while since he’d seen Kaiba in person and his stupid feelings were no better for the absence. You’d think knowing he’d purposefully used Joey’s feelings to manipulate him to his own ends would cool Joey’s feelings, but here he was chest still aching just from seeing Kaiba standing in the moonlight.

He was pathetic. This whole situation was ridiculous. 

Kaiba looked good. He was just as tall, just as broad-shouldered, same toned muscle definition. His hair was a little longer, a little less styled--but it was held out of his face by a thin circlet-crown thing of pale metal and, guessing from the colour scheme of his castle and also his life, set with sapphire. The expression on his face was the same calculating focus he was used to seeing on Kaiba’s face during a difficult duel phase or working on a tricky bit of programming.

When he’d babysat/nannied Mokuba, sometimes Kaiba had sent a car for him just to keep Mokuba entertained and occupied while he sat in the CEO’s office after school. He’d been able to shoot glances at the older Kaiba brother working on his computer when Mokuba wasn’t demanding his full attention.

Those afternoons had probably been the culprit for Joey’s damned feelings, now that he thought back on it. He was passionate about his business, and cared for Mokuba more than Joey had first understood. After all, he had put up with his least favourite person in his office and home most days a week just because Mokuba had asked for Joey to be the one to look after him.

Joey jerked back from the window as vicious blue eyes suddenly darted in his direction. He told himself to calm down as his heart raced in his momentary panic. Kaiba was probably just looking at the tree. He couldn’t see through the window. It was probably tinted in the real world, but here it was also disguised as a hole in the tree trunk.

He forced himself to lie down properly.

“What’s out there?” Mokuba asked, sounding tired.

“King Set,” Joey answered carefully. 

The bed rocked and juddered as Mokuba jumped off his bunk and started to climb up the ladder. He pressed against the window eagerly. Joey watched with pity and a heavy heart as Mokuba murmured his brother’s name and laid one hand on the glass.

After a few moments in shrieked and fell back. Joey caught him before he could tumble off the side of the bed. “What?” He asked frantically. “What happened?”

“He shot an arrow at me!” Mokuba said, indignant. 

Joey just blinked, panic climbing up his throat. If this murderous Kaiba had been able to see them through the window, if their shelter was compromised, if they were no longer safe...

“Well, not really me,” the teen corrected after a moment. “At the window. He didn’t look like he was attacking. He looked like he was testing a hypothesis...” Joey took his word for it. Mokuba had probably seen a hundred different experiments and new equipment trials. The teen shifted back to the window, frowning as he looked out the window. “Oh, weird. It’s like there’s half an arrow stuck to the window.” He tapped the class above it. “He looks pretty annoyed. That’s his failure face.”

Joey let his held breath out. “Are you gonna stay there all night, kid? Because I’ll take your bed instead.”

“Nah,” Mokuba said, his voice mixed with some unexpressed emotion. “You rock the bed too much. Besides, staring out the window and giving my brother longing looks while he’d oblivious is your schtick.”

Joey gave him an irritated look. “How about we don’t talk about that, Mokuba?” 

Mokuba snorted. “Because ignoring it has really helped it go away so far, hasn’t it?” He mumbled as he climbed down the ladder. 

Joey glared at him until he was out of sight and waited until he was settled in his mattress for returning to the window. He frowned in confusion. Where had Kaiba gone? Pressing his face against the glass to get the most vantage, he managed to stop the top of Kaiba’s head as he... climbed the tree. Oh goodie.

He sat back a little, hugging his legs close and resting his chin on his knees to watch the window. Kaiba’s face appeared a moment later, scowl etched into features like stone. One hand gripped the sill of the window, fingers half-disappearing through the magic barrier. It clenched and his muscles bunched as it was obviously used to keep his weight. His other hand grabbed at the crossbolt and yanked it from the tree. 

Joey shifted his eyes away from the cold expression, eyes focusing on the hand. It relaxed slightly as Kaiba must’ve found a better handhold with the other. Before he could think how much of an idiotic move it was, one hand was reaching out to touch the glass over his hand. It almost looked like their hands were touching, but there was only a cold, hard surface under his hand.

He raised his eyes and met Kaiba’s as they glared at the window. His focus was too short to look inside--like people looking at those two-way mirrors while you watched from the other side. It was a strange, charged moment. Joey had to fight down the urge to call through the glass--he didn’t know what he would say. But something.

Before he could make a fool of himself in front of Mokuba, King Set was lowering himself back down from the tree. Joey took a shaking breath and forced himself to lie down so he didn’t do something as embarrassing as watch Kaiba leave.

///

“What does it mean when someone you know should be somewhere can’t be found anywhere?” Bakura mumbled to himself.

“Pardon, Master?”

Bakura jerked his head around and shot Malik a look. The slave was scrubbing Bakura’s floor--it had been clean to begin with, but Bakura had insisted. He sighed and turned back to the magic mirror, flicking his hands and shifting the view several metres to the right. He’d given up on asking Isis to find Joey, and was combing the wilderness himself in the magic mirror. 

“Who are you looking for?” Malik asked, turning to look at him.

“You should be scrubbing.” 

“Scrubbing the pristine floor I swept not two hours ago,” Malik replied, rolling his eyes. “If you don’t want my assistance, I won’t help.”

“What could you possibly have to offer?” Bakura snapped angrily.

“An outsider’s perspective and different life experience knowledge,” Malik replied. “It’s not like the tribe never had to find someone lost before.”

Bakura huffed in irritation. “Someone is missing. They ought to be in the forest but my mirror can’t find them.” It wouldn’t do harm to let Malik know a little about what he was doing.

“Okay,” Malik said. He shifted so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, tapping one finger on his lip. “Generally when someone can’t be found by the usual magical means, there’s a spell cloaking them or they’re in a place that can’t be found.”

“He doesn’t have magic,” Bakura snapped, “he can’t be cloaking himself.”

“That’s not what I said,” Malik sighed. “Okay, a different angle then--is anybody else missing with him?”

Bakura opened his mouth to snap back no. Then his brows furrowed and he turned back to the mirror. 

There was the Pharaoh, locked up in his pyramid with only invisible, silent servants to tend to him. There was Yugi, sorting through puzzle pieces in a room filled only with puzzles and games. Mai, in her hawk form, was flying through the air; looked like she was tracking Kaiba again. Kaiba was hunting again, letting his kingdom go to waste as he tried to hunt down Joey--he seemed to be having just as much luck as Bakura himself. Téa was in Kaiba’s summer palace, he really ought to do something about that. She wasn’t getting much punishment if all she did was laze around luxury all day.

Isis was trapped in mirrors of course, cryptic and vague as always. Rishid was still deep in the diamond mines, silent as he hacked his way deeper underground. Malik was, of course, just behind him.

Another swipe of his hands. Ryou, perfectly happy as he mixed up a tincture for his healer’s trade. Next it was Joey’s younger sister, he caught a glimpse of long orange-red hair and the flash of a pale blue tail amidst the waves. Apparently a blind mermaid did well enough for herself in the lake. He switched to the Duke of Devlin and cringed--apparently he’d made a miscalculation and the nature of their rivalry. Without the Wheeler girl they apparently had nothing left to argue over--and turned all that sparking tension into something else entirely.

He clenched his fist at the mirror, causing the images to disappear and showing him his own reflection, with Malik still loitering on the floor behind him. He glared. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning?”

“Everyone there?” Malik asked, instead of responding to his implied command.

“Yes,” Bakura barked.

Malik raised his eyebrows slightly. “That was everyone? It seemed like only a few. Are you sure there’s no one you’re forgetting?”

Bakura opened his mouth to shout at him to go back to work but paused before he could speak. There was... He frowned. He’d always been rather benevolent towards the younger Kaiba brother--he hadn’t really planned anything in the way of payback for the teenager. Just a place at the castle and a brother who had no time to give him any attention.

He frowned, turning back to the mirror. He waved a hand at the glass and waited. Black and purple smoke seemed to curl under the surface. When it cleared, all he had to see was a clearly unused room in Kaiba’s palace.

He growled, getting to his feet. “That bastard!” he snarled. The kid didn’t have the cunning to escape his curse unaided, but Kaiba--with all his technology and that seemingly limitless mind. He could have developed something. A barrier that cancelled magic or something like it. He clearly hadn’t been inside it himself, but neither would he want to leave his brother unprotected.

“Figured something out then?” Malik asked, smirking. Bakura turned on him and thrust out a hand, banishing Malik in a cloud of dust. The slave left a very sarcastic “you’re welcome” in his wake.

Bakura paced across the room, then back again, the heavy linen of his cloak whipping around with his movements. He had to draw them out somehow, and he had to make sure Kaiba dealt the final blow. He paused mid-step. No... He smirked and turned back to the mirror. No. Death wouldn’t be enough of a blow for Joey Wheeler now. 

He sat down to plot, wondering how he could turn things to his advantage. 


	4. Chapter IV

“Darling,” Queen Anzu said over the breakfast table. “Not another day hunting? The poor hounds must be so tired of it now.”

“Dogs love to run,” King Set deadpanned. He didn’t bother to mention the fact to his wife that he wasn’t taking a hunting party with him and hadn’t in the first place. He ignored her huff of irritation as he continued to make his way through the hearty breakfast. 

He stood after a bit, tugging on the deerskin gloves from his pockets. “Have this haunch carved and prepared for my lunch along with cheese and fresh bread. I will be at the stables in one hour,” he addressed his valet standing nearby. The servant bowed in obedience and allowed Kaiba to leave the breakfast room unaccompanied. 

He changed into the formal riding clothes and exchanged his heavy silver crown for the lightweight one for travel. Then he sat down with his map to plan his course for the day. He’d traced lines to organise the quadrants of the forest he had explored already. The clearing in the centre was what had drawn his focus the most. There were definite footprints present there on regular basis, rarely coming or going to the nearby villages. Someone was living in the forest around that clearing, and his instinct told him it was the creature he was looking for. 

Having decided on his course for the day, Kaiba dealt with some boring business matters for the kingdom until the hour had passed. Going down to the stables, he was glad to see everything had been organised as he had instructed. He mounted the horse easily, clicking his tongue and gently nudging her sides with his calves. She started a brisk walk, as eager to be out of the stables as he was.

At an inn of the village closest to the part of the forest that he aimed for, he stabled his horse and took the reserved room. In there he changed into the less ostentatious hunting wear he kept there. The circlet reminded his subjects of who he was, but the clothes afforded him more discretion within the forest itself. 

Crossbow in hand, he forged a new path through the forest. He crossed the small stream that marked the halfway point. He immediately tensed and whipped around, pointing his crossbow at the source of the noise. A vaguely familiar figure was standing not far away, holding his hands up to show he was not holding his weapon. 

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing. His hair had clear had been recently pulled out of a helmet, sweat-shaped into a strange tapered shape. He bowed deeply in respect.

“Who are you?” King Set demanded suspiciously.

“Sir Honda,” he answered. “I’m a knight for the Duke of Devlin, in King Touzokuou’s court.”

“So?” He asked suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“I was sent with a message. It has come to the High King’s attention that you’re hunting down the wolf Jou,” he answered. 

“Has he sent you to tell me to desist?” Set demanded. If the overblown king wanted him to spare the wolf’s life, then it would be an excellent opportunity to demonstrate how threatened he was by the king up in his floating castle. 

“Not at all,” the knight replied. “He has a reward out, five thousand gold coins for a live prisoner. Eight thousand for dead.”

Kaiba’s eyebrows shot up over his forehead. “He wants this wolf dead, does he?” He asked, smirking.

“I can’t comment,” Sir Honda answered. “The message is as it is.” He bowed to him again. “May I assist you wish anything, your majesty?”

“I only accept loyalty from my countrymen,” Set deadpanned. He watched as the knight tracked back through the forest. 

So. The king up on his high horse wanted the wolf dead, for reasons he didn’t want made public. What was it, he wondered? Information seemed likely, information that King Set now found it necessary to acquire. 

The crossbow wouldn’t do for his new approach. But he still needed to find the lupine bastard. If that knight was going about the forest and informing all the hunters about the reward he only had a day or so before the forest would be crawling with hunting parties on the search for his prey. 

He headed to the clearing, crouching down in the underbrush a few metres out of sight. 

“Mokuba, no! Not that branch! You’ll get stuck.” 

“This was your idea, Joey!” 

Kaiba leaned forward eagerly. What had that knight called the wolf? Joe? It had to be the wolf creature. He held the crossbow tighter and crept closer in a crouch. 

“Alright, grab down to the other branch below you.” A blond figure in a brown hunting jacket stepped up between the two trees blocking his view. “Alright, drop down to the ground. Bend your knees to take some of the pressure of your fall.”

“Get out the way you idiot, I’m gonna land on you.”

The wolf man chuckled and took a few steps back, “alright you’re clear.”

King Set raised his crossbow. He couldn’t kill the wolf, not while he might be useful for information. His companion, however was fair game. Hands tightly, he hooked his finger through the trigger and aimed. A thin, young figure dropped to the ground. 

Set aimed for the long tangle of black hair and went to pull the trigger. There was loud screech and he felt something cuff the side of his head, sending him off balance. When he got back on his feet, the arrow was lodged in the trunk of the tree. 

“Mokuba get inside!” the blond shouted. His voice was a rough growl, and Set wondered if he was about to transform into the wolf he was fabled to be. 

The king jerked his head rapidly to the side, grabbing for the crossbow and a handful of dead leaves. He raced into the clearing, holding up his crossbow steady to aim. “Wolf!” he snarled. “I am here for you!”

“Well here I am, fucker!” He darted his head aside just in time to see a blur as the wolf tackled into his side and knocked him over. 

Set growled angrily, finding purchase and flipping them so the wolf man was underneath him. He hated to resort to fisticuffs like some uncouth commoner, but there was nothing to be done about it. He drew his hand back and clenched his fist, swinging it down. It struck the jaw and jerked the wolf’s head to the side.

“Fuck,” he hissed. His cheeks hollowed for a moment and then he hocked back and spat in the king’s face. 

“You beast,” Set said, disgusted. 

He gripped two hands around the dirt-streaked throat and squeezed tightly on the wind pipe. He ignored the hands beating and scratching, sneering down at his prey as the struggles grew weak. The blonde head dropped down on the ground, staring at the clearing until his eyes rolled back and his lids slipped closed. 

King Set withdrew his hands and sat back. He dug the dagger out of his belt and tore a few strips out of the poor quality linen shirt the wolf was wearing. He bound up his ankles and feet, lifting the dead-weight body over his shoulder. 

He stooped to pick up his crossbow, attaching it to his belt. It took the rest of the afternoon to get back to the inn. He didn’t want to risk being on the same horse as a wild wolf, so kept him tied up and shut away in the wardrobe. 

///

Joey turned his head and glared at the light as the door creaked open. It was Kaiba, of course it was. “You,” he spat.

“You should treat me with respect,” Kaiba growled, glaring down at him. “I am a king.”

“You hunted me for weeks, tried to shoot an innocent kid, choked me until I passed out, tied me up and left me in a closet all night,” he deadpanned. “Exactly where were you earning my respect?”

“You’re an insolent vagabond, aren’t you?” Kaiba asked, his mouth turning down in disapproval. “I’m starting to wonder if the king wants you dead just because you mouthed off to him one too many times.”

Joey could only guess, since Kaiba was meant to be a king himself, that he meant some king that outranked him. It wasn’t much of a leap to guess that it was Bakura. 

He snorted. “If he wants me dead it’s probably because I wasn’t supposed to remember.” 

The king raised his eyebrows. “You know something?” 

Joey met his eyes in a defiant look. “So what if I do?” He challenged. 

“Then you stay alive a little longer.” He reached forward and grabbed Joey’s collar, lifting him out and setting him on his feet. “As long as you co-operate, you and your young friend will both stay alive and healthy.”

Joey’s fists, still bound together by strips of his own damn shirt, clenched tightly. “You don’t know where he is!” he snapped, calling Kaiba’s bluff.

An elegant eyebrow arched over cold eyes. “He’s in your tree.”

His breath catching gave away the truth before he had time to think of his own bluff. Kaiba smirked, reaching forward and yanking him closer. “You’re going to co-operate, be an obedient creature, and I won’t kill you and then go after him.” 

“You’re a bastard,” Joey replied. He could hardly believe... In his world, his Kaiba, the CEO would do anything to keep his brother safe and happy. This one, this King Set, had happily been about to kill Mokuba--just to get at Joey. Was this Bakura’s punishment for the brothers?

“Is that a no?” The king asked, something cruel glinting in his eyes. “Shall I go back for him?”

Joey shoved at him with his bound up hands. “It ain’t a no!” he protested. “You stay the fuck away from him!”

“Or what?” Kaiba sneered. 

“Or you’ll die.” Joey didn’t know if he, himself, could actually kill Kaiba. He didn’t have the physical strength right now to overpower the king--the well-fed king who hunted regularly, when he’d spent weeks cooped up in a small room with little to eat. But other than that...

This king still wore his Kaiba’s face, had the same self-assured posture and the familiar cold, hateful expressions. He might not be the same person, in regards to his motivations and personality. How could he be? This was a Kaiba without his sole purpose in life. This was a Seto Kaiba without a Mokuba.

But when Kaiba remembered himself--when, not if, Joey didn’t doubt Yami’s future success--he would figuratively die. He wouldn’t live with the knowledge that he was the one to have killed his own brother. If Joey knew anything about him, it was that.

“Be a good little beast and I won’t have to harm your,” he faltered. “What is he to you? Son? Lover?”

Joey’s face wrinkled in disgust at the suggestion. “Brother,” he replied. “He’s a brother.” _He’s your brother._ With his history, his feelings for his Kaiba, he did have a brotherly feeling for Mokuba. He almost thought that the kid felt the same. He had, after all, asked Kaiba to make him his nanny all those years ago.

“Your brother,” Kaiba repeated. “As long as you co-operate, he’ll be safe from harm from me.”

Joey looked away. “I’ll do what you say,” he said reluctantly. “But I’ll be damned if I kiss your ass just because you’re a king here, or something.”

Kaiba glared at him, then reached down for his forearms. “I’m guessing that’s the full extent of your wild manners,” he replied. “It’ll have to do. I hardly expect to tame a beast on the first day.” He unknotted the binds from around his wrists. 

“I think I miss you calling me a mutt,” Joey mumbled, turning away from him, The bed was too far away, so he just sat down on the ground to work off the ties around his ankles. 

Kaiba walked past him. He stripped off his clothes and Joey averted his eyes, embarrassed. He was tempted to stare, he’d earned that much after being shoved in the closet all night, but part of him didn’t want to. For two reasons he could pin down--first of all, this was not his Kaiba. This wasn’t really the guy he had feelings for, even if he looked exactly the same, so he was a little put off by the thought of admiring his figure. The second reason came from the part that still recognised his Kaiba in this King Set--but that part remembered how cruel Kaiba had been to him.

“Stand up already,” the king commanded impatiently.

Joey looked over at him then froze. He tried to stifle his laughter, but it still came out as an ugly snort. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Kaiba glared at him, then dropped his eyes down to the ridiculous ensemble. He was wearing tight, nearly-white leggings under a pale blue jacket like thing. The same kind of thing princes wore in medieval shows. “This is the formal riding wear suitable for a king such as myself.”

Joey snorted. “Looking ridiculous is a royal duty now?” He climbed to his feet and waited by the door. “Are we going or not?” 

“We’re not at your leisure,” Kaiba replied icily. “Nobody rushes a king.” 

“You’re such a jerk,” he huffed.

“Watch your tongue,” the king snarled in reply, “or I will have it cut out.”

Joey thought it was most likely a bluff. Kaiba had mentioned he was only alive because he remembered. He couldn’t get any information out if he was mute. But he didn’t want to push the royal temper. He crossed his eyes and glared Kaiba down.

Kaiba unlocked a box and pulled out a more ornate crown than the one he’d been wearing on the hunt. It still wasn’t one of those cupcake type things with all the fabric on the top. The silvery metal was a couple of inches thick, and had a couple of strategically placed sapphires, the largest in the centre of his forehead.

“Can you ride?” 

Joey jolted. He’d been distracted staring at the crown, hadn’t been expecting being spoken to again. “What?”

Kaiba rolled his eyes, probably about his lack of proper address. “Riding,” he repeated. “Do you know how?”

“A bike?” Joey repeated, pulling his eyebrows together in a frown.

The king gave him an irritated expression. Joey thought it might be more confusion than anger. “Horses. I’m taking your lack of adequate answer as a no.” He gave a gesture to command Joey to follow him, and swept out of the room. It was the same dramatic walk that had looked intimidating with the long coat, but without the coat and in the ridiculous outfit Joey had to swallow his laughter down.

His good mood evaporated when they got down to the barn filled with the horses. When he’d told the king that he couldn’t ride, he’d expected a carriage or something. Kaiba climbed up into the saddle, somehow managing to make the movement as smooth and controlled as everything else he did. 

He took up the reins and tugged the horse’s head around. It took a few steps towards Joey and he took a few steps back. He’d fallen into an automatic defensive pose, a bad tell of his own nerves. 

“You can either walk behind,” Kaiba announced. “Or ride with me.” 

He recoiled angrily at the choice. “I don’t want to walk behind the horse. He’ll kick me or I’ll walk in his shit.”

“She.” Kaiba tugged at his gloves. “She’s a mare.”

“My points still stand,” he muttered angrily. 

“Then I suppose you’ll just have to ride with me.”

Joey glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t I just walk beside you? It’ll be harder for her to kick me from there.”

“To walk beside a king is a mark of equality,” Kaiba answered stonily. He adjusted his grip on the reins. “So, no. You may not.”

“And sharing a horse is any better?” Joey asked dubiously.

“You’ll still be behind me,” Kaiba replied, “or I can tie you up and toss you over the front of the saddle.” He raised his head, giving Joey a condescending look. “This is the last option you will be given before I am forced to decide for you.” He smirked. “I think you’ll know what my choice is going to be.”

Joey sighed angrily and approached the horse, glaring at it warily and ready for those vicious hooves to slam into him. “How do I get onto this thing?” He demanded.

The king snorted and pulled his polished leather shoes out of the dangly metal hook things. “Put your left foot in the stirrup and then swing your right leg over the rump.” 

Joey looked at the ‘ _stirrup_ ’ dubiously, lifting his left foot and trying to poke it in. It swung away from his foot and he growled furiously at it. The king and his horse took a deep breath and exhaled it in an irritated huff. “Don’t you patronize me!” he snapped at them. He got an arched eyebrow in response. “I’ve never been on a damned horse before!”

“That much is obvious,” Kaiba replied. “Hold the stirrup still while you put your foot in you dolt,” he commanded, “it won’t shift if you’ve got a firm grip.”

“Yeah, you’d know all about a firm grip wouldn’t you?” Joey muttered sullenly.

He yelped as a hand grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled relentless. His breath was forced out as his chest hit the bony back of the horse. He struggled a little, but a firm hand pressed on his back and forced him to stay down. “I did give you your options, beast. If you can’t be civil, I’ll treat you like any other game I bring home.”

Joey struggled petulantly, but it only made himself more uncomfortable. He made himself as loose as possible, flopping over the horse’s back. 

“Was that so hard for you?” The king demanded. “Things will go easier if you just obey me without the defiance.” 

“I said I’d do what you say to keep you from attacking my brother,” he replied sullenly. “I never agreed to be some sort of obedient pet.”

Kaiba scoffed. “There is a difference between deserving respect and wanting you to be a brainwashed servant,” he replied. “If I wanted that, I’d simply enchant you.”

Joey glared at the ground as it went past. “You’d get no satisfaction from that,” he mumbled. “You’d rather you bent someone to bow by their own will.”

The king didn’t answer. He figured he’d struck on the truth. That was the same as his own Kaiba. He would rather humiliate his opponent--in business these days, but in the card games of their teen years--into cowing to his will. He’d only a met a few people he couldn’t defeat; Joey had always considered himself one of those. 

Nowadays... He sighed heavily, shifting so there was less pressure on his ribs. Well, he was just as bent to Kaiba’s thumb as anybody else; maybe even more. As far as he know, nobody else was in love with the icy CEO. Kaiba had plenty of relationships, ranging from an engagement half a year ago, to one night stands. He knew that Kaiba was a pretty reserved. The only person he’d really seen the elder Kaiba be nice to was his younger brother.

He took a deep, pained breath. He hoped Mokuba was keeping himself safe. He’d seen Mokuba slip reluctantly into the tree shelter, so he knew he was safe. But he didn’t know if he could stay alone in the shelter long enough for Joey to manage an escape. The last thing he needed was Mokuba getting it into his head to come and rescue. 

He shifted again and made an uncomfortable groan. “Can I get off, please? This seriously hurts.”

“There’s more than halfway to go,” Kaiba replied. “Keep you tongue.”

“My ribs are going to fucking break,” he groaned. “Let me off!”

“Your ribs are not going to break,” the king replied impatiently. He horse came to a stop, and the hand on his back lifted off. Joey scrambled off and laid on the ground, touching his ribs gingerly. There was a slight thump and when Joey turned his head, polished black boots were standing next to his head. “Are you ready yet?”

“Can I walk? You’re only going as fast as I can walk anyway,” he pointed out.

“For the journey through the forest,” he permitted. “But then you will have to ride.”

Joey took the chance. He got slowly to his feet, brushing off the leaves from the back of his jacket and pants. He expected Kaiba to climb back up back onto the horse, but he merely took the reins in one hand and started walking along the same path.

Joey fought the immediate urge to fall into step beside him. He’d probably get shoved back and trampled by the horse anyway. With a tired resignation, he walked beside the saddle instead. Kaiba was at the head of the horse, the reins hanging slack between them. 

They walked in silence for a long time. Eventually, it got to Joey’s nerves. He sighed. “What am I expected to do once you get me to the castle?”

Kaiba gave him a condescending look. “Whatever I see fit.” 

Joey had gotten used to not seeing that look directed at him for a couple of years. It made him feel like a brash teenager again, determined to get the respect he wanted from the man his own age who seemed to think he was so much better. 

Why couldn’t he, even now, feel that he wasn’t anything less for not having Kaiba’s respect and attention. It was unhealthy, to crave the approval of someone who could only spare the time of day to kick him in the teeth. But then there were moments...

A look Kaiba gave his brother when Mokuba was fully distracted by whatever game or show was holding his attention. A slight gesture to Joey to acknowledge that he had said something that upset him, but hadn’t meant it. His orphan charities, not emblazoned with the Kaiba Corp label, but still carefully overseen by his wary eyes. 

There was a depth to Kaiba he couldn’t fully comprehend. That fascination had kicked off everything. Maybe things would be better here. This King Set certainly didn’t have the softness for Mokuba, and he wasn’t known for feeding orphans--so far he’d been unaffected by the thought of hurting Joey. He hadn’t even cared that he was about to kill his own brother to win a hunt...

They walked in silence for a while longer. Joey didn’t know how to talk to King Set, knew that he rather wasn’t supposed to address the royal at all. The only royal he’d really known in his own world was the Pharaoh who was his friend Yami before he had any memory of his time as the ruler of one of the most powerful kingdoms in history.

He was a rough ill-mannered kid of the streets who’d fought his way out of one of the worst street gangs in his neighbourhood; he’d never had much respect for authority. He was a firm believer that respect had to be earned--not by being the toughest or best fighter as he’d believed when he was younger--by at the very least treating him with common decency.

Kaiba had never done so in high school, in the half a dozen game tournaments where they’d crossed paths. Joey had hated him with equal fervour to the disinterest he received during those years. He could respect his talents, and note that at least with Mokuba there he wasn’t totally heartless... 

He paused mid-thought, raising his eyes to the broad-shouldered back of his travel companion/kidnapper. Was King Set heartless? With no younger brother to live and be better for, was he the worst of what many people thought him to be? It made his chest ache, like some schoolgirl whose crush ignored her--poor King Set. Could he be blamed for being the worst of himself when he was missing what made him strive for his best? 

He shoved the thought away. “Yes,” he growled to himself. “He can.” This was not his own Kaiba, he reminded himself. This was a king, not an orphan brother who hardened himself to protect the only thing he loved. This was a spoiled king who thought himself the best because of his rank. 

It was too dangerous to keep thinking of this guy as his Kaiba with a bit of memory loss. His feelings for the icy CEO were bad enough as it was, he didn’t need to have similar ones for the asshole king who would’ve killed Mokuba and not batted an eyelid just to catch his prey. 

“If you are quite done muttering to yourself,” King Set said loudly, “this is far as we walk. Get on the horse.”

“I still don’t know _how_ ,” he muttered angrily. But he couldn’t argue, for Mokuba’s safety, so he stepped up next to the stirrup thing. The king’s expression was blank as he held it still. “Your foot.”

Joey decided to throw himself into the action with as much enthusiasm as he approached all his duels. One foot was in the metal hold and launching him up onto the horse’s side before he had time to really thing about what he was doing. Then he was stuck because he’d fucked up the climb somehow. His right foot was jammed in the thing, on the wrong side of the horse’s body, and he was awkwardly perched on the end of the saddle. 

The king gave a snort--Joey’s hackles raised immediately, before he realised the noise wasn’t quite one of derision. It almost sounded amused. “That’ll have to do,” he said. “We’ve wasted quite enough time as it is.”

He pulled Joey’s foot out and stepped up on the right foot. He swung his leg over the horse’s back and settled properly into the saddle, before pulling Joey back slightly to rest against his chest. “Try not to tense up,” he commanded, reaching either arm around Joey to take up the reins. “It’ll only make it worse.” 

Joey felt like he must look like one of those useless princesses from Disney movies, sitting on their side with the princes holding them steady. But he didn’t want to argue, and he couldn’t think about the fact he was feeling totally emasculated. He tried to calm himself, keep his muscles as relaxed as possible. The horse was slow, and he started to recognise the slow rhythm of the steps. He shifted into a more comfortable position, clenching his jaw as he realised he’s only moved further into the king’s lap. 

“Have we got far to go?”

“There’s an inn on the main road outside the forest,” Kaiba answered. “We’ll stop there for the night and I’ll send a servant for a carriage overnight.”

“Do I get to ride in the carriage?” He asked, surprised. 

“Not at all,” the king replied. “There’ll be a seat on the back. You’ll be secured there.”

Joey scowled, clenching his jaw tightly. He didn’t argue, even if he wanted to. He’d agreed to come quietly, the least he could get was a decent ride to his prison. 

Once he’d calmed down, he managed to ask: “So how long until we get to the inn?”

“Is it impossible for you to be quiet?” Kaiba snapped impatiently.

“Forgive me for now being awed into silence at your mere presence,” he mumbled angrily. “It was just a question.”

“We’ll be there at dusk,” the king answered, sounding irritated. 

Joey tipped his head back to look up at the sky. It was probably a good couple of hours till then. He tensed up as he felt his head rest against something firm. Probably Kaiba’s shoulder. 

He yanked it up and gave a low cry as his balanced slipped. The arms around his ribs clenched tightly and he held him firmly onto the saddle. “I told you not to tense up!” he snapped. 

“This had nothing to do with that!” he argued. “I just lost my balance.” 

“It’s easy to keep your balance when you’re relaxed,” Kaiba insisted. “I clearly know more about this than you, so why won’t you do as I tell you?”

“You don’t exactly make it nice to listen to you,” Joey yelled back. “You’re an arrogant jerk!”

“I am a _king_ ,” Set replied, hands clenching tightly around the reins, “it’s not arrogance if you are genuinely higher in life than someone else.” They eased slightly. “The sooner you treat with me with the respect I am entitled to, then you will find your place with me far more comfortable.”

“I’m giving you all the respect you deserve,” he snapped. He felt like he was repeating himself on that point. 

“You don’t seem to understand,” Kaiba growled. There was a familiar note of impatience in his voice. “I am a king, I could destroy everything you care about.”

“We’ve already agreed on the only thing I have to care about,” Joey replied curtly. “You’re a man of your word.”

“Oh, am I?” Kaiba challenged. “How would you know?”

He could hardly mention that he relied on his knowledge of Kaiba in duels. He may be angry in his defeat and obnoxious in his victory, but he never went back on his bets riding on the game. “Because you’re a gentleman.”

The king scoffed. “I came into power at twelve by tricking my father’s Council of Five into giving me power before I had them all exiled for treason.”

“The Big Five,” he mumbled, trying to remember what had happened in the real world so he could compare. “Why?” 

“Excuse you?” The king demanded, shocked. “You dare to question me?”

Joey snorted. “I’ve done far more than question you before this point,” he pointed out. “Which means I’ve touched a nerve.”

“I don’t have to explain my politics to you,” Kaiba snapped, sounding angry. 

Joey resisted the urge to snicker in victory. But it quickly died out. “What was the king doing?” He asked, concerned. He didn’t know what the equivalent of selling weaponry to armies was. “Supporting mercenary armies?”

“My father and his council were planning to systematically raze every kingdom’s crops on the island but our own, forcing them to trade with our kingdom. I led them to believe that I had bigger, bolder plans for the dominance of our kingdom. Then after my coronation I banished them from the island.”

Joey nodded. “Seems fair,” he admitted. He pulled his lips up in a victorious grin. “Told you. You’re a man of honour.”

The king huffed. He recognised the exasperated noise of a Kaiba who was refusing to admit something he had been forced to accept as truth. Mokuba made the same noise. Joey took his victory, it might be the last one he had for a long time.

///

Bakura smirked, leaning closer to the mirror. Kaiba’s royal carriage was crossing through the gates of the summer palace. Joey was sitting on the back, looking disgruntled as he shifted inside the ropes tying him down. 

It was a nice picturesque moment; and now that Joey was the king’s prisoner, there would only be more opportunity to see the mutt humiliated while he was captive. He smirked and swept the image in the mirror aside. 

“You look happy.”

Bakura turned his head and found Malik. He was stripping the sheets of Bakura’s excessively large bed. There was a fresh set folded neatly on the chaise at the base. “What are you doing?” He demanded, confused.

“Making your bed,” Malik replied, as if that was obvious. “You haven’t had your bed changed since I’ve been here.”

“I don’t sleep,” Bakura replied curtly. “And if I do, it’s not in the bed.”

“Then why would you have a bed?” Malik asked, not pausing in his work. 

“It looks luxurious,” he replied, shrugging. 

Malik scoffed. “I have a pile of straw on the floor of a dungeon cell and you keep this huge, soft bed with pure cotton sheets. You don’t even use it.”

“You are a slave,” Bakura deadpanned. “I am the high king of this land.”

Malik just sighed and shook his head. “As you wish,” he replied. The old sheets were in a loose pile on the floor beside the bed. He placed the numerous pillows on the chaise and reached for the fitted sheet. With a flicking movement, the sheet unfolded and billowed through the air. It landed along the mattress and he knelt on the sheet. He reached one corner to tuck it onto the mattress. He gave a low grunt as the sheet caught and wouldn’t move any further. He scowled and tugged harder.

Bakura chuckled slightly and got to his feet. “You’ve never had to make a bed this size before, have you?”

Malik glared a little at him. “We didn’t have extravagance like this in the tribes.”

Bakura just shook his head and offered him a hand. “Get off the bed,” he said. “I’ll show you for next time.” 

Malik glanced at him suspiciously, then reached forward to take his hand. Bakura felt his breath hitch as their skin brushed and a spark flew up his arm. He stared slightly at their joined hands for a moment, then pulled him off the bed. He’d thought... Battle City, Malik was brimming with shadow magic and an alternate personality. It couldn’t be...

“It’s easier if you’re not leaning on the sheet at the time,” he said, his voice rougher than its normal gravelled tone. He stepped to the corner of the bed and reached for one end of the sheet. He tugged it over the corner of the mattress. “You grab the other side,” he instructed. 

Malik walked to the other side of the bed and fitted the other corner in place. Bakura gestured down to the other end of the mattress, smoothing down the sheet so it was properly in place. Malik carefully copied the movement. Bakura lifted the mattress up, resting it on his knee as he tucked the corner over it. Malik carefully copied him, trying to keep his shendyt in place. 

He tugged, growling slightly. “It’s too small.”

Bakura chuckled. “No it’s not.” He gently rested his side of the mattress down onto the bed frame and walked around to Malik’s side. He stood behind the slave, raising his knee to help hold the mattress propped up. Arms either side of Malik, he grabbed the sheet beside Malik’s own grip. “You have to give it a little force.” He pulled, feeling the sheets catch tight on the mattress. 

He pulled it down over the corner, tugging with an extra grunt until it fitted into place properly. “There,” he said.

“Thanks,” Malik said, but his voice sounded unusually husky. 

Bakura wondered why for a moment, before he realised the answer. He was pressed close against the slave’s tattooed back, the white shendyt had been rucked up to the high skin of Malik’s thighs. He stepped away quickly and turned around in case Malik could catch his blush. “That’s how it’s done,” he explained. 

Malik silently went to work making up the rest of the bed. He smoothed everything carefully, straightening non-existent misalignments. “Was that all, sir?” He asked, his voice hesitant. 

“You may go, Malik,” Bakura replied tightly, sitting back down in front of his mirror. 

“Oh, you usually banish me with your magic,” Malik said. 

He watched in the mirror as tanned hands gathered up the old sheets from the bed. He cleared his throat and looked away to control himself. “Do you want to be banished?” He demanded, growling.

“No, I don’t like it. Makes me dizzy. I’d rather walk, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Then get out of here before I lose my patience.”

“Yes, Master.”

Bakura was left in the quiet room, aware of how empty it felt. He shook off the feeling, ignoring what his logic was trying to tell him. Instead, he opened up the mirror and checked on all of his victims. 


	5. Chapter V

“Darling,” Queen Anzu said, pouting heavily. “You brought a monster into my home.”

“He’s not a monster,” King Set replied. _And it is not your home_ , he added with a simmering anger. This kingdom and everything in it was his and she had yet to do anything to earn the rights to call anything her own. “He’s a wild man, of course, but I have everything under control. I will be personally monitoring him for the next few nights. It is my duty to ensure the safety of my people.”

“But what about _me_?” She whined. “Is not my safety more important than the commoner’s?”

He gave her a dull look. Was she really that self-absorbed? “No, my queen. It is not.” He rose to his feet. The long table of courtiers set down their forks immediately, respectful of his departure. “I’m afraid I have important matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your feast.”

Turning, he swept his cape aside as he left the room. It was shorter this evening, a smarter dinner choice. Normally he’d ignore that, but he didn’t want to get his white train filthy. 

He headed down to the dungeons, dismissing the guards and unlocking the heavy metal door. Stepping inside, his eyes immediately sought out his captive.

The wolf, Jou, was sitting on the pallet, picking at the bread he’d been served for dinner. He slid a wooden chair into the cell and let the door fall shut behind him. It locked automatically, but that was simple. He’d just manipulate the lock with his magic when he wanted to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Jou demanded, looking up at him with an irritated expression. This wolf was so insolent. It was infuriating. 

“Ensuring the safety of this palace’s residents,” he replied. “I can’t allow a dangerous animal to be unsupervised in my domain.”

Jou snorted. “Is that the reason you gave them for spending weeks you ought to have been running your country running through the forest hunting down a rumour?” He asked.

“I don’t need to explain my motives,” Set growled impatiently.

The wolf set his bread aside on the wooden plate, turned, and flopped down inelegantly onto the pallet. “To me or to your underlings?”

“Neither,” he snapped, irritation rising. “I cannot wait until you transform and I don’t have to hear your insolence any longer.”

Jou snorted, turning over to look at him. “Are you still thinking I’m a wolf, or whatever?” He asked. His language was so unrefined and abrasive. “Because we’ve shared a room for two nights and you didn’t hear any howling from your closets.”

“I did not gather conclusive evidence,” Set answered sternly. He was not used to being questioned at every turn. “I am here to observe for the evening.”

The wolf turned back over, facing the wall. “Okay, whatever,” he answered. “This is more comfortable than the inside of those. I’m going to sleep.” 

King Set glared at him. If that was some way of convincing him to keep his guard down or even leave the room, the beast was mistaken. After a few moments however, it was clear that the declaration was not false. Jou was snoring, sprawled loosely half-off the pallet. 

He glanced outside the window, studying the colour of the sky. It was after sunset now, it definitely should have activated the beast’s curse. Yet... there he was. Human. 

Perhaps it only worked if he was conscious and aware of the time. Might as well test the theory. He waved his hand over the sprawled form, summoning water from the shore nearby. He held it in place for a moment, then let it drop all over the beast.

Jou woke up with a scream of shock, eyes wild and outraged as he looked around the cell. Wide brown eyes settled on him and a low growl formed in his throat. “What the hell was that, you jerk?”

“Sea water,” he replied, smirking. “I needed you awake.”

“Why?” Jou demanded, angry. “It’s the first time I’ve had the opportunity to sleep in days.”

“You do not have the opportunity to sleep,” he answered curtly. “I have to make my observations.”

“You were already watching me sleep like some sick stalker, is that not enough for you?” Jou snarled, standing up. He yanked at the ties holding his jacket together and pulled it off. He stripped off the shirt underneath and started wiping the water off of his jacket. 

King Set’s breath had caught at seeing the ravaged scars across the pale back. When he could breathe again, it came as a sharp gasp. The shaggy blond head whipped around, giving him an almost terrified look for a moment. What was the beast afraid of?

Quickly, the countenance twisted and became an angry snarl. “Do you mind?”

“You’ve been quite damaged by fate, haven’t you?” Set asked, leaning closer. 

“Fate had nothing to do with it,” the beast responded, yanking the damp flax linen back over his head. “Fate’s been rather kind to me compared to the people in my life.”

He understood the implication in his prisoner’s words. Someone, or perhaps a number of people, had been the one to inflict the damage. It was probably also further indignation about his being held captive. He wasn’t sure why he was so angered by it—they had made their deal. Jou’s brother was safe from him and his men; and in return the beast stayed with him.

He looked out the window and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, turning to look back at the wolf. “Are you stopping your transformation somehow?” He demanded.

Jou gave him a bewildered look, visibly paused, then let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, right,” he said, settling back down on the now soaked pallet. “You still think I’m supposed to turn into a wolf at night-time.”

Set frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?” He asked.

“I don’t transform into a wolf, night or not,” Jou replied, with the air of someone who was tired of repeating themselves. He tilted his head and gave lopsided smile. “Does that mean you’ll let me go?” 

Set allowed him the honour of considering the suggestion for a few moments. “No.”

Joey snorted inelegantly, shaking his head as he laughed. “Well, it was worth the try.” He shifted his arms back behind his head, elbows pointed towards the ceiling. “So back to staring at me, are you?” 

“I am not staring, do not be so brash,” the king replied, scowling at him. “I’m observing you for signs of danger.” The only thing he was observing however, was the wet fabric clinging to the contours of Jou’s chest under the soaked patches.

“I could cause less damage if I was alone in here and asleep,” the beast pointed out.

“Is that a threat?” Set growled.

“What? No.” Jou dropped his arms back down, frowning at him. “I just want you to leave me alone so I can sleep.”

“The more you insist on me leaving, the more suspicious I get about your motives,” he pointed out, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Damn you’re so prickly,” Joey groaned. He shifted, lying down on the pallet. His face twisted up slightly and he moved to another part of the bed.

Set held out his arm and lifted the water from the bed and flicking it to go out of the barred window. “Not that I believe you on the lack of enchantment,” he began, “but if you _weren’t_ , what would the High King want you killed?”

“I swear I have to tell you everything twice,” Joey said, frustrated. He turned on his front and craned his head back to look at the king still sitting on his seat. “I have information about a curse cast on my friend. If I’m gone, that knowledge is too.” 

Set considered the information. “Is this an attempt to convince me to keep you alive?” He asked suspicious. 

“You’re going to do whatever you want,” Jou mumbled, twisting on his side to get a better view of him. “I’d rather be alive, obviously. And I have got important information I would like to get to the right people one day.” He rubbed a hand against his eyes as if he was developing head pains. “But as you love to remind me, you’re a king with astounding power. If you wanted to kill me, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.” He reached up to rub at his neck, which was covered in bruises turning green. “I think you already proved as much.”

King Set was unnerved by the twinge of guilt that sparked at the wolf’s gesture. He shoved it away quickly—he didn’t have anything on his conscience about the hunt. No matter how the beast phrased it, his actions had been necessary. 

“You are correct of course,” he agreed. He eased back onto the wooden slats of the chair. “But I currently have no desire to see you dead.” 

“Gee,” Jou deadpanned. “I feel so loved.”

He raised his eyebrow, not acknowledging his words. “It would be in your best interest to tell me the information you are concealing.”

“I’m not sure I should,” Jou replied carefully. “I don’t know how much information you can be trusted with, if any at all.”

“I could order you to tell me,” he replied. “By the terms of our agreement, you have to do as I say.”

The wolf sighed, irritated. The king got the impression he’d just said something to disappoint him. “You could,” he agreed. There was an underlying threat to his voice—something they both knew would be unwise to communicate, but present nonetheless.

For now, Set let the information stay hidden. There were certainly time to prove to Jou that he was deserving of the information; and he would keep the wolf for as long as necessary. 

He tugged the cape out from under his seat, hanging it over the armrest of his chair. Jou gave it a look and smirked to himself, before settling down into a more comfortable sleeping position. “Something funny?” 

“You remind me of someone I knew before,” Jou replied. There was a note of longing in his voice. Set knew it was more than a simple acquaintance that the wolf was reminiscing about. “He used to wear long, dramatic coats. I always wondered how he sat with them. Probably the same way you do with your capes.”

“This person I used to remind you of, is he your former lover?” He questioned. 

The hint of yearning and the flush that dusted his cheeks answered that question better than the wolf could have done with his uneducated construction of sentences. It told of Jou’s feelings for his former lover, given the yearning and the blush, they’d been intimate at one point but Jou had felt more than simple lust for his partner. “That’s none of your business.”

Set just chuckled. “I suppose it isn’t.” But after a silence where the wolf seemed to be easily setting in to sleep, he spoke up again. “So what happened to him?”

“What?” Jou asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Whom,” he corrected lightly. “Your former lover. You said you knew him before.”

“Yeah.” Jou gave a heavy sigh and rubbed at his eye again. “I don’t know if he’s still around. Haven’t spoken to him since I left to protect my brother.”

Set nodded to acknowledge him. If the High King was anything worth his salt, he’d likely already disposed of the lover. Simply as a tactic to draw the wolf out of his hiding place. If he couldn’t work out for himself, the king wasn’t going to break the news. 

Jou started snoring a few minutes later. He watched the sleeping figure for a while, then got to his feet. With a thought, he summoned a blanket over the top of his sprawled limbs, and left the cell.

///

Joey paced around the small cell. He’d thought he’d been stir crazy inside the panic room. Now he was considering knocking Kaiba out so he could make a getaway while no one was looking for him. It’d never work but it occupied his mind plotting.

He struck the far wall and paused, turning a right angle to face the wall to his left and kept walking. Two steps and he was at the wall. Turn, back to the door. Four steps. Turn. Two steps, he was nearly trampling the bundled hey that served as his bed. He’d nudged it closer to the middle of the room earlier, and he walked that narrow path again as he continued his pacing.

He turned, grew bored of his pacing, then flopped himself down onto the straw. It pricked at his lower legs, since he’d folded the blanket towards the top of the bed to serve as some kind of pillow. His shoes had been confiscated when he first arrived, like a school teacher taking away some kid’s mobile. His socks were now filthy like the rest of his clothes, but he propped them on the end few inches of the blanket anyway, staring at the door through his knees.

Téa had once talked about stockholme syndrome, complaining about some movie or other that made it look romantic. He wondered yet again whether he’d developed something like that with Kaiba. It’d been a week since he’d been held captive in this dungeon, and the only thing he had for variety was the king’s nightly visits. He looked forward to those visits more than anything else in his limited routine. It was a little worrying, to say the least.

He slung an arm over his eyes and recoiled a little at the smell that assaulted his nose. God, he missed baths and showers. He’d have to negotiate at least a bar of soap and a bucket of water from the king as some stage. He couldn’t keep living with the smell of old sweat. A change of clothes was probably out of the question too. 

The door clanked as the internal locking mechanism turned over. He didn’t bother removing his arm--the king knew better than to expect any sort of acknowledge from him at this stage. The footsteps that entered, however, sounded heavier--and there was the shift of metal against metal like chainmail. Was Kaiba going on a patrol or something?

He pulled the arm away from his eye and looked up. One of the sour-looking guards who delivered his meal was standing there, flanked by two others wearing white bib-like things over their chests. “It’s too early for dinner,” he pointed out. 

“They’re here to escort you to the baths,” the foremost said. 

“Sweet,” Joey declared, getting to his feet. “I was just thinking how much I wanted to wash.”

The guard gave him a disdainful look. He was one of the many people in the castle who hated his disrespectful attitude; who would rather see him weak and pathetic in their presence instead of having a spine. He tugged his leather jacket over his filthy shirt and approached the door.

The two white-bib guards gestured for him to walk between them, and led him up the winding stairs away from the dungeon. More twists and turns than he could account for and they led him into a room of polished stone. There was a long in-ground pool in the middle of the room, filled with water. He could clearly see the bottom so it wasn’t too deep. A maid dressed in clean, pale blue-grey dress was standing nearby. She gestured to a folded white material. “A towel,” she announced, in the slow sort of way people did when they thought someone couldn’t understand them. “Leave your dirty clothes outside the door.”

Laundry service too. He nodded at her and she hurried from the room. The leather jacket was folded up onto the bench next to the towel. He stripped off the shirt and undid the knot of his trousers, tugging the socks down with them. The weird boxer short things were next, he tugged at the drawstrings and slid them off, loosely bunching all the clothes together and shoving them out the door before shutting it firmly behind him.

He hurried over to the pool of water, climbing in and making a soft noise of contentment. The water was not hot--it was a tepid sort of warm that told him it had been hot at one stage. But regardless of temperature, a bath was a bath. He dunked himself completely under the water that came up to his ribs, the tub thankfully long enough to allow for it. Coming up for breath, he rubbed at his skin to wash off any excess sweat. 

A quick search found a bar of soap nearby. The feel of it was gritty and it all but burnt his skin as he rubbed it over, so he hurried to wash it off quickly. Combing his fingers through his hair, he did his best to tug out knots and clumps of dirt-and-hay. He was tempted to sit in the bath and just soak it up for a while, but it was an ugly brown-grey colour now. He climbed out and rubbed himself down with the rough cotton blanket towel thing. His skin came away as weird clumps of grey fluff and he brushed them off before wrapping his shoulders with the towel and tugging it around to cover the rest of his body.

There were no clothes around, so he grabbed at his jacket and went to leave.

He opened the door and stuck his head out. One of the white-bibbed guards was standing across the hall, and straightened as he spotted Joey. “Hey, do I get clothes or something?” 

The guard made a silent gesture to say he should follow. He gripped the towel together in one hand and his jacket in the other. More turns and corridors, and eventually the guard jerked his thumb towards a closed wooden door. Joey nodded his head in thanks and headed inside. 

He let the towel drop, left his jacket on the wooden arm chair by the door. A quick scan of the room found clothes on the table. He crossed and unfolded them, checking them out and trying to figure out exactly how everything went on. The olden style boxers with the drawstrings were simple enough, he bunched the fabric around the string so they were small enough for his skinny hips, knotting them like a shoelace to they could be undone quicker. The trousers were less so, and more like the tights Kaiba had been wearing in his official riding uniform or whatever it was. 

Working it out with logic, he pulled the knee-high socks on first, sitting down to put them on properly.

A door opened and he yanked his head up, startled. The door in front of him, the door he’d come through, was still firmly shut. With the sound of a familiar footstep, he yanked his head around.

Kaiba came to a stop, blinking at him and staring with a little too much attention at the scars on his back. It wasn’t the first time he stared and Joey glared at him, folding his arms and turning his way so his more marked up back was out of his sight. (His front had a few scars, but they were mostly battle wounds he didn’t have to be so ashamed of.) 

The king gave him one of those imperious looks and set down a pair of boots on a low side table. “These are the smallest I have. You might want to stuff the toes with straw.”

“Why?” Joey asked. 

The question encompassed more than just the suggestion about the shoes. Kaiba smoothed down the fancy stitched jacket he was wearing. There wasn’t even a wrinkle in it anyway, the snooty jerk. “I have some guests coming to dinner. I want them to see you as my personal guest.”

“I’m not your guest,” Joey reminded him, irritated.”

“They don’t know that,” Kaiba answered, rolling his eyes dismissively. “Just be grateful for a night out of your cell and food from the royal kitchens.”

He huffed like a child, but only to conceal his pathetic gratitude. He was very relieved to be out of the cell and actual food instead of the stale crap he’d been getting would be nice. He reached for the shirt from the folded clothes. It was much softer than the shirt he’d been wearing before, though the same not-quite-white colour. He tugged it over his torso, relaxing as he felt his most embarrassing features covered up. 

The tights were next. He wrinkled his nose a little, but tugged them up around to just underneath his ribs. There were laces - criss-crossed like shoe laces, but made of thin leather strips. He tugged on them, one first, and then the other, tightening the fabric of the pants around his waist. 

Kaiba clucked his tongue and came over. “You do not even know how to dress yourself,” he pointed out. Joey gave him a dirty look, but dropped his hand down as pale hands reached for the laces on either side. Tugging out the basic knot, he readjusted them so they were both evened out. 

“These are stupid pants,” Joey pointed out. “Who makes pants so difficult to remove?” 

“The royal tailor,” Kaiba replied. “I hid these away when I was younger so I’d never be forced to wear them again. They’re the only thing I have that will fit your form.”

“Oh, you jerk,” Joey said, batting away his hands with a jokingly annoyed look. “Making me wear pants even you hated to wear.”

“I am sure I would have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied, smirking. “Put the doublet on, I’ll send my valet in to deal with your hair.”

“Put _what_ on?” Joey asked, bewildered. Kaiba raised his favourite eyebrow and pointed to the dark blue jacket still remaining on the table. “Oh.” He took a few steps away from Kaiba and picked it up. “Why is everything in your kingdom _blue_?” 

“It’s our kingdom’s flag colour,” the king answered.

“Your kingdom,” Joey answered, sliding his arms through the sleeves of the jacket thing.

The king paused, tilting his head like a pet listening to a distant noise. “You truly aren’t from these parts, are you Jou?”

It was rare enough that King Set would say his name--or rather, this world’s equivalent. The sudden reminder of the curse had his thoughts settling somewhere dark. He was getting caught up in the deception, even inside his own brain. 

“No, I’m not,” Joey admitted. For his own benefit, more than to answer the king’s question. “I’m from some place very far away.”

The king nodded, paused as if waiting for more of an answer, then turned back toward the door he’d just come through. Joey buttoned up the jacket, tugging it into place. It hung loose around his frame, but it was as close a fit as he was likely to get. He couldn’t wear his own leather jacket, and it wasn’t much tighter than this anyway. 

He looked around and found a decent mirror hanging on the wooden wardrobe across the room. He headed over and paused, staring at himself. Had it really been so long since he’d seen himself? All the shelter had was a small shaving mirror in the sparse bathroom. 

His face looked thin, his eyes deep with bags and looking wide and frantic though he felt quite calm. The clothes disguised his figure a little, but it will was clearly thin. No wonder Kaiba had thought him a wild forest man.

He rubbed his hand across his stubbly chin. He’d never done well with growing a beard before, it seemed to see this awkward stubble forever. He’d made sure to shave it before it became a problem in the shelter, but he hadn’t exactly had that opportunity in the dungeon.

Searching the room, he found a small flat blade on a little table nearby. He carefully scraped at the hair at the top of his cheeks, creating a nice even line. It gave the impression his stubble was being neatly cultivated.

A voice cleared his throat behind him. He held the razor tight in his hand so it wouldn’t shift and cut his face. He turned and spotted someone he thought he might’ve seen working at Kaiba Corp... 

“His majesty sent me in to assist you with your twa-let.” It was some funny word, but if he stretched his thoughts back he thought it might be _toilette_ from a stupid TV show his mother had liked to watch. As best as he could remember, it meant getting ready for the day.

“Ah,” he set the knife down. “Yeah, King Set said something about my hair, I think?”

The valet’s nostrils flared slightly when he heard Joey used the king’s name, but didn’t comment. He nodded and gestured to a seat. Joey sat, pulling down the sleeves of the jacket to hold for something to keep his hands occupied. The towel he’d used for his bath was wrapped around his shoulders. There was combing and, if he heard right, the occasional snick of scissors. 

Eventually, the valet covered his hands in some kind of gel and used it to set Joey’s hair in some sort of orderly fashion. It was probably a testament to the barber’s skill that it even stayed in some semblance of style instead of puffing up into its usual style. 

The valet bustled out of the room and Joey stood. He didn’t bother looking at himself in the mirror, just went to stand in the doorway. He caught sight of Kaiba and froze, his breath catching in a sharp gasp. 

For a moment, it was his Kaiba standing there. That dramatic long white coat, stretched across broad shoulders. His head was bowed, hair perfectly groomed, looking down as he knotted up his tie. Joey had been intruder on a private moment like it numerous times during his employment for the Kaibas.

Any moment, Kaiba would turn around and frown at him in disapproval for lingering. “What is it, Wheeler?” He would ask. Joey would tell him whatever reason he’d had to bother the CEO...

Joey felt his breath sigh out almost like he’d been hit. The regal head raised and looked over his shoulder. The slight angle of the torso let him see what had occupied Kaiba’s time. It must’ve been the catches of the long white cloak. 

“Well,” he announced, turning back to his mirror. He adjusted the fit of his jacket. “You groom well, Jou.”

“Wheeler,” Joey heard his voice say through a bubble. “Joseph Wheeler.”

“His royal majesty Set the third, king of Kaiba, lord of the West Forest, bearer of the blue flag,” the king replied, raising his eyebrow. He adjusted the clasp of his cloak again. “I don’t see why you think your name matters to me.”

“Right,” Joey said, bitterness flooding his mouth. “Why should it?” He sneered. “It’s only who I am.”

“I believe we have spoken about your decorum when addressing me,” the king remarked dryly. He stepped away from the mirror, opening a jewellery to reveal a heavy crown loaded with sapphires on a bed of—surprise, surprise--blue velvet. “Do attempt some semblance of civilisation at the table tonight.”

“How about I just keep my mouth shut?” Joey snarled angrily. “Would that be better for you, _your royal highness_?”

“It would certainly be easier for me if I don’t have to explain your lack of manners to my guests.” He nearly exploded with anger, but something in the way Kaiba said it stopped his rage short. The tone of voice, the set of the shoulders and the carefully composed expression...

“Oh my god,” Joey exclaimed, surprised, “you _like_ me being a difficult asshole.”

“Your inelegance is certainly entertaining,” Kaiba replied. His tone was composed, but there was a lightness to it. He was almost... playful. “I could do without your disrespect, but your absence of formality does make conversation go easier.”

Joey gave a short bark of a laugh. “Never thought I’d ever hear you say that to me.” Kaiba actually _liking_ his rough personality. It was such a bizarre concept. It reminded him once again that this King Set was so different to his own.

Seto Kaiba had his younger brother to treat like he was a normal human being, instead of the robot CEO so many tabloids liked to call him. Who here had the same job for the king? 

“Me,” he murmured, glum. 

Kaiba turned around, flicking his cloak aside with a smooth, practiced movement. “If you’re done muttering to yourself, the table can’t sit before I arrive.” Joey nodded and started heading for the door. “Shoes,” Kaiba said shortly.

“Huh?” Joey paused. He dropped his foot down to his feet and saw only the white stockings. “Oh. Right.”

He ducked back into the room and shoved his feet into the boots Kaiba had given him. They were made of some soft bleached leather that was almost white. They were too roomy in the toes, but he couldn’t always get the right size growing up. He was used to walking in ill-fitting shoes.

Afterwards, he came back into the room. Kaiba nodded at him and turned toward the door. “Don’t walk next to me. At least four paces behind me at all times. Though if you slip up, it is a forgivable error.”

“Right,” Joey replied, smiling slightly. “Slip up often, got you.”

Kaiba paused at the open door, shooting a smirk over his shoulder and heading out of the room.

///

“You look serious,” Malik commented, setting down a tray of food on the vanity table. 

“I’m a very serious person,” Bakura answered flatly, glancing away from the mirror long enough to look at the plate. 

“No you’re not,” the slave responded, rolling his eyes. “I can hear your laugh at the other end of the castle. You’re not serious at all.”

Bakura glared at him. “It’s a very serious situation,” he replied.

“Your revenge isn’t going as well as you’d hoped?” Bakura whipped his head around to look at him, suspicious. He simply smiled. “I am far more observant than you would like to give me credit for.” 

The thief glared at him suspiciously, but he felt less than he displayed. If he had an ally, in his old self and in this new world, it was Malik Ishtar. He sat back into the cushioned back of his chair. “Take a look,” he said, gesturing to the mirror.

Malik looked surprised, but stepped up beside the chair. He leaned slightly over Bakura, looking at the mirror. “It’s two men walking down a corridor. Dressed well. He’s a king, obviously.” He reached over and tapped lightly at the crown on the vanity table beside Bakura. 

Between Malik and himself, there was no way it would gather dust, but it hadn’t been worn since he had discarded it on the first day of the curse. 

“I paired them together,” he explained. “They were antagonistic, I was hoping one of them would be killed or injured by now.”

“Antagonistic?” Malik repeated. He looked back at the mirror, blond eyebrows drawing together in concentration. “Are you sure?”

“What sort of bloody question is that?” Bakura snapped. “They were constantly arguing and insulting each other.”

Malik straightened himself, smiling slightly. “They’re not enemies, Master. There’s love growing in that garden.”

Bakura snapped his head around to look at him. “What?” He demanded, affronted. “ _Love_? Between Joey and Kaiba?”

The slave shrugged, the smile still hadn’t left the rose-coloured lips. “Sometimes it’s difficult to understand our souls calling to each other at first,” Malik said gently. “The threads of love pull, but we misunderstand the attraction. People think the attention, the blood burning in their veins, means discord. It comes across as antagonistic.” He paused, breaking off to look at Bakura in concern. “Is something wrong, Master?”

“You may leave,” Bakura commanded, his voice feeling tight.

Blond eyebrows raised slightly, but he bowed. “As you wish, Master. I will be by to collect the tray in an hour.”

Malik left the room, he watched the tanned figure disappear out the door. He tried not to think about the words, tried to look out their own past. The desert tribes had too much poetry; made simple attraction and unresolved sexual tension sound like a potential love denied. He couldn’t dwell on it.

He had to fix his fuck up in regards to the king and his prisoner.


	6. Chapter VI

“Fall back two steps,” Kaiba commanded, coming to a stop before a busy-sounding hallway. 

Their easy conversation came to a sudden stop. Joey remembered where he was and who he was talking to. This was not hanging out with Kaiba while on a family weekend with Mokuba. “Yeah,” he forced himself to say. “After you, your majesty.”

King Set’s expression flickered for a moment, but it was perfectly composed before he could try and work it out. He nodded, a regal movement if Joey could recognise one. Turning his face away, his posture immediately adjusting. 

Joey couldn’t feel like he was with his Kaiba anymore. This was the king, the one who’d kidnapped him and locked him in a wardrobe. He watched the king, counted four steps before he fell into step beside him. 

There was loud chatter, which quietened to a respectful mumble as their king arrived. Joey found his eyes settled on the floor. He’d never been a shy person, but after being isolated for so long…

His head snapped up and tried to pinpoint the location of that voice. “Duke?” He whispered, surprised.

“That’s the Duke of Devlin,” another familiar voice said behind him. He whipped around, eyes searching out the speaker. “Sir Honda, I’m a knight of the Devlin court.” With a hand over his chest, he gave a polite bow.

“Joey,” he replied, his mouth feeling dry. 

Tristan seemed ready to ask a question, he recognised that slight puckering of the eyebrows; but before he could speak yet another familiar voice spoke up. 

When he turned around, it took a long moment to recognise Téa walking towards them. She’d had a short, manageable hairstyle for as long as he could remember. He couldn’t tell how much hair she had now, but it was curled and pinned up and twisted into some complicated hairstyle. The dress had an excess of fabric, pinned above her butt and dragging behind her, so he wondered if some might have been spared for her cleavage. 

He darted his eyes away from her, embarrassed. He’d seen more of her, she liked bikinis like most other girls, but it was such a different setting. A white gloved hand slipped through his arm and held it. 

She gave a toothy smile to Tristan. “Sir Honda,” she greeted. “I hope you enjoy my stay at her palace.” She gave a ringing giggle he hadn’t heard since middle school. “I know my dear Jou has.”

He smiled, hoping it didn’t look as strained as he felt. Kaiba and his... god, Téa was his queen, wasn’t she? He controlled his shudder to a slight shiver. King Set and his queen clearly had some plot tucked up their sleeves, but clearly they hadn’t thought to include telling him about it in their planning. 

“Jou,” Tristan repeated, sounding suspicious, “I have heard that name somewhere before.”

There was a loud boom as the doors to the banquet hall opened. Téa tugged at his arm. “Come, my wolf,” she said lightly, “you can walk me to my chair.”

When Joey managed to turn to look back at Tristan, a furious look was crossing his face. He’d missed something important, but there was no way he could ask. She was definitely doing the leading in their pair, turning him toward the closest end of the table. 

“You’re sitting up beside Set,” she said quietly. “By his left hand. The right hand side is reserved for his guest the Duke.”

He bowed awkwardly to her and headed up to the other end of the table. She took a seat, but everyone else remained standing. Joey stood in front of his chair, waiting awkwardly. King Set sat and then the rest of the table followed a moment later--Joey was a beat behind them as well. An army of servants, dressed in the same pale blue, set down bowls of soup in front of the guests.

Soup wasn’t Joey’s favourite food, always reminded him too much of being sick when his mum still lived at home; or when they’d had to get food from the charitable donations box at the church. Still, as soon as his bowl was in front of him he looked for a spoon and--having not found one, picked up the bowl to drink from straight away.

When he lowered the bowl, he found the guests dead silent and staring at him in shock. 

King Set gave a hearty laugh. “Well,” he said to Duke, “we can’t fix everything, can we.” He picked up his own bowl and sipped from the rim, with elegant manners. After he lowered his bowl, the rest of the table started eating their own soup.

Joey realised it was probably a rule that nobody was allowed to eat before the king. He shot a guilty look at Kaiba, who spared him a look. The king gave him a blank nod, but Joey could see a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t mad, but he couldn’t show that he found Joey’s fuck up funny in front of the other guests.

For the next course, a plate heavy with some kind of meat and gravy with vegetables, Joey made sure he waited until the rest of the table had started eating. God... Fresh, hot meat, paired with rich flavoursome gravy and... shit, he never thought he’d see the day he missed eating vegetables. 

He set down his fork at the end of his plate and stiffened. It was too quiet again. He looked to his right and saw Kaiba watching him with a slightly disgusted expression.

A snicker started further down the table. Joey jerked his head to look, spotting Tristan laughing into his fist. “You can take the wolf out of the wild, eh?” He asked his neighbour, but loud enough to be heard by the whole table. 

The laughter rippled out among the rest of the guests, eventually bringing out a few chuckles from the king himself. Joey got slowly to his feet. “Please excuse me,” he requested.

He only waited long enough for King Set to give a slight nod to show his permission, then turned and strode out of the hall. He found a familiar looking guard. “Can I be taken back now?” He asked.

The guard looked surprised at his request but nodded. He led Joey back through some winding corridors. After a while, he realised he was being led back to the dungeons. Of course--this was a temporary joke at his expense. King Set had probably always intended to shove him back in his cage after the banquet was done. 

At least he’d gotten a decent meal out of it.

He unbuttoned the stiff jacket and slung it over Kaiba’s chair. Sinking onto the pile of hay, he slung an arm over his eyes. 

He’d seen his friends. Tristan and Duke, apparently together in this world. Bakura had probably thought their antagonism would cause trouble between them. Casting his mind back to the last day, once their predispositions were disposed of, it wasn’t exactly dislike that remained. He cringed a little at the memory, then turned onto his side. He had his own experiences of the day to shove away.

Téa was a queen, but she seemed just as mature as she’d been in middle school. She certainly looked the same age as he was used to, but... He chewed on his lip, thinking. Kaiba without was colder, harsher and desperate for anyone who treated him human--Joey fell into that role. Téa without... he frowned slightly. What was she without here? His immediate answer was Yugi.

Joey groaned slightly. Téa’s big change might not be Yugi, but Yami’s definitely was. He could remember the pharaoh’s actions, before he and Yugi had gotten along properly, and briefly after Battle City when the orichalchos had taken Yugi’s soul away. He didn’t even know if Yami would be sane--that is, if he could ever find him. For now he was stuck with Kaiba ensuring Mokuba’s continued safety. Even if he was set free from Kaiba’s captivity, he’d still have to go check on Mokuba.

He took a deep breath and rolled back onto his back. He needed to find out where Yami might be, where Yugi might be, how he was to reunite them. 

The door swung open with a bang. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

Joey lifted his eye, frowning up at the king. “Loafing around my cell?” He tried. “What’s up your ass?”

“Don’t address me like that,” Kaiba hissed furiously. “I try to treat you nicely, and you return my favour like this.”

“I don’t know how to deal with a fancy meal!” Joey snapped back. “You think I’ve ever been to one before? It’s not my fault I don’t know the rules for how to eat with royalty.”

Kaiba stared him down, nostrils flaring. 

“You could’ve told me not to eat before you! Or kicked me or something to let me know I was eating too quickly. I’m not okay with being the butt of your joke!”

“Stand up,” the king commanded.

Joey folded his arms stubbornly. “If your game is to let me embarrass myself for the amusement of you and your party guests then you can just fuck off. I’d rather stay locked up in this cell forever.”

“I said stand up, Joseph Wheeler,” Kaiba snapped, stepping further into the cell.

“Well, Seto Kaiba, king of the forest, lord of the white dragon,” he snarled, “after the shit I went for you tonight, I think I deserve...”

Kaiba reached down, one hand grabbing his wrist and the other around his shirt, yanked Joey to his feet. “Tonight was not about my entertainment, or that of my honoured guests,” he snarled. 

Joey yanked his arm away, slipping easily through Kaiba’s fingers. The hand around his shirt released, the hand shifting up to hold his chin and around his neck. 

“Tonight was about demonstrating that you are my guest and therefore under my protection. The Duke will take the information straight back to the high king, who will get the word to any other hunters he set on your trail.” The thumb of his hand traced across Joey’s cheekbone. “If you could act more like a guest instead of a terrified animal backed into a corner, it’ll be more convincing.”

“I’m not a guest,” Joey pointed out, frozen in place. 

Kaiba’s hand on his jaw, eyes imploring him to just go along with the plan. It was too familiar. He felt like there were fluttering butterflies in his chest, but there was a sick feeling in his stomach.

“I’m a prisoner,” he continued, reaching up to push Kaiba’s hand away from him. “Why didn’t you tell them that?”

Kaiba stared at his hand in the air for a moment. His fingers curled inwards and he let the hand drop heavily to his side. “You were not expected to return here after the banquet,” he answered. “There is a room waiting for you upstairs. Would you accompany me there now?”

Joey was so tempted to agree. Instead, he took a deep breath and took a seat on the hay bed again. “I think it’s better if I don’t. That way neither of us can get confused about why I’m here.”

Kaiba’s expression flickered through frustration and disappointment before it settled into a blank mask. “I am trying to change your place here, Jou,” he explained in a careful voice. “Would you truly rather stay in the dungeons?”

“I think I’m safer here,” Joey answered, thinking over his own reasons. 

“From whom?” Kaiba demanded curtly. “I can post guards in front of your door if you’re concerned about hunters getting into your room.”

“From you.” 

Kaiba recoiled, taking a step back.

“From myself, with you...” Joey sighed, running his hand through his hair and feeling it release from its strict order. 

“I remind you of him.” The king turned away, taking a deep breath and readjusted his posture. “I will have your laundered clothes delivered here. Sleep well, Joseph Wheeler.”

“Goodnight, your majesty.”

Kaiba took a deep breath, then walked out of the cell. With a gesture of his hand it swung shut behind him. The sound of the locks clicking into place echoed in the empty room.

///

Bakura threw his head back and laughed, the sound of his victory bouncing off the walls to come back to him. That couldn’t have worked out any better if he’d planned it. 

The door opened and Malik came in, looking confused. He came over and packed up the now empty tray. “Something happen?”

“Only vengeance unplanned,” he replied. He gestured at the mirror that featured Kaiba stiffly stripping his formal dinner attire. His face, usually so carefully arranged, was deeply lined with his upset. 

“He looks upset,” Malik commented, watching the picture with a blank expression. “What did you do? It’s only been a couple of hours.” 

“That’s the best part,” Bakura replied. “I didn’t need to do anything. His past actions did everything for him. _And he doesn’t even remember._ ” 

“Oh,” Malik said, his face settling in a sad frown. “That’s a shame.” 

“A shame?” He repeated, disbelieving. 

“No one should be blamed for their past if they try to make up for it,” Malik recited. “I guess I just don’t think it’s fair that he is upset because he did something he doesn’t remember.”

“You’re spoiling my vengeance,” Bakura growled, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Sorry,” Malik replied, though he sounded anything but. “I’ll leave you to your vengeance. It’s all that makes you happy.”

“It’s not _all_ that makes me happy,” Bakura protested, offended. 

Malik rolled his eyes. “All you do is sit at that mirror and laugh whenever something goes according to your plan.”

“I enjoy games,” Bakura snapped, “and stealing from unaware idiots. And...” he frowned, trying to remember if he’d had any hobbies outside of his quest from vengeance. “And weaving. And fucking willing, pretty men.”

The blonde eyebrows just rose judgementally. “My point still stands. If the spiders weren’t afraid of you, you’d be laden with cobwebs.”

Bakura turned to glare at him and rose to his feet. Unfortunately for his point’s stance, his muscles clicked and cracked as they settled into place after being in one position for too long. The former Egyptian snorted a laugh at his expense and Bakura’s face burned with an embarrassed flush. 

“Well, it’s a start.” Malik picked up the tray in his hands and shook his head. “Now if only I could you get you to sleep in the bed.”

He smirked, purposefully trailing his eyes down Malik’s barely clothed body. “It would be much better incentive if you were to join me, Namu.”

The slave shook his head as he rolled his eyes. “Not the way you treat me. Although actually being nice might improve your chances at bedding me.” He turned and left the room.

Bakura glanced back at the mirror. Kaiba was gently picking up a brown leather hunting jacket from the ground. With a wave, he vanished the image and crossed over to the bed.

///

King Set ignored the headache building somewhere behind the band of his crown. “You will be compensated for the ruined crops by grain from the royal stores. A hunting permit for small game will also be awarded to your family for the next six months.” 

He gestured for the vizier to organise the appropriate actions. There were no more citizens for the audience at the summer court for the day, so he stood. The usual procession of bows preceded him, he acknowledged some with a nod, but he kept his expression carefully controlled. 

Once he was out of the throne room, he found himself tracing a familiar path. Descending the stairs, dismissing the guards posted on duty with a cold look.

The door gave way under his hand as if there was no lock at all. He stepped inside and tugged his long cloak into the room before letting the door fall closed once it was clear.

“You look ridiculous.”

Set had to shift his eyes from the pallet bed to his normal chair. Jou was sat in the chair, watching him over the top of a book. 

It had been a surprise to learn the foreigner could read--he certainly didn’t speak like he was educated, but the proof was in the words he could read with barely a hint of hesitation. 

“This is the appropriate attire for a king holding audience in his court,” he replied, letting the cloak drop into a natural fall. “You’re in my seat.”

“Everything in the castle is yours,” Jou answered. The tone and his distinct lack of movement made it obvious he did intent to move from the seat. 

He could summon another seat, of course, but there was hardly room for it in the small cell barely four paces wide. Instead, he brought a table down from the rooms upstairs with a wave of his hand. He unclasped his cloak and draped it over the wood, taking off his crown with a grateful groan. Dressed more comfortably, he crossed to the pallet bed and sunk down until he was sitting.

“By the blue flag,” he groaned, “this is the most uncomfortable bed I’ve ever felt.”

“I’ve slept on worse,” Jou replied flatly, turning the page of his book. He closed the book and turned slightly in the seat so he was turning to look at the king. “You’re here early.”

“It was a difficult day,” Set answered.

“Oh?” Jou asked. “Wanna talk about it?”

He felt his eyebrows twitch upwards with his surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“I asked if you wanted to talk about your day,” Jou answered, rolling his eyes. “Gees, sorry if that offends you.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It was just... surprising. There are very few people who wonder about the king’s thoughts on the events of a day.” There were plenty who cared about how he would act about certain scenarios, but his private thoughts... well, there was nobody who cared about that. 

“Lay it on me then, King Set,” Jou said, setting the book aside. He took a moment to turn the strange turn of phrase over to figure out the meaning of the words.

“It was...” He paused, giving the wild man a wary look. “Long. It’s the first audience I’ve held since being at the summer palace,” he explained. Groaning, he rested his head back against the cold stone wall. “My head aches acutely.”

“What even is an audience?” Jou asked. He stood off the chair and came to sit next to King Set on the pallet.

“The citizens of my kingdom come to ask requests or to plead for conflict resolution,” he answered. He groaned slightly as the aching behind his forehead sharpened. Lifting a hand, he pressed a thumb and forefinger on either side of his eyebrows and drew them together in a slow, steady movement. 

“Here,” Jou said in a low voice. “Sit forward a bit.” Set did no such thing, in no mood to follow the commands. “Alright, then.” There was a shift and Set threw his eyes open as he felt a weight settling over his lap. 

“What are you doing?” He demanded, making no moves to shove the wildman off. 

“Just relax,” Jou commanded in the same low, quiet tone. “Serenity used to get stress headaches when she was doing her final exams.”

Set groaned as cool fingers touched his temples and gently started rubbing gentle circles into the skin. “Who’s Serenity?” He asked.

“My younger sister,” the wildman answered, shifting a little closer. “Better?”

“Quite,” Set answered, letting his eyes open a sliver. “You did not mention that you have minor healing magic.”

Jou chuckled. “No, no magic,” he said, “just a bit of hands-on experience.” 

“Are you sure?” He asked, letting a smile tug at his lips. “Your eyes are enchanting from so close,” he murmured, “there’s a world of colour in their depths.”

A besotted smile crossed Jou’s face with a flush of colour. “You’re a real sweet talker, Kaiba.” The smile quickly faded off the sun-kissed face and something melancholy took its place. He stood and went to stand against the wall. “Glad I could help.”

The king sighed in disappointment and closed his eyes again, feeling the ache behind his eyes that had nearly faded throb to life. “I should not have spoken,” he murmured. “I apologise for my words.”

Jou groaned and rubbed at his face. It was a familiar gesture, one that Kaiba understood meant he was thinking of something discomforting. “Look... it’s not your fault. I just...” He sighed heavily. “It’s not right, you saying all these things. You’re...” He trailed off.

Set frowned. “What am I that is so offensive to you?” He demanded, trying to shove down his temper. “Male? Gentleman? King?” All at once, his offence soured into a familiar darkness in his mind. “Or perhaps my behaviours prior to our arrival at the palace have poisoned you toward me indefinitely.”

“No, look, it’s not...” Jou tugged at his hair, a gesture of frustration the king had also began to notice. “A little bit of the last part, but, not indefinitely. I know you’re trying.” 

“I should not be pressing you to change your refusal,” he said, shaking his head. He pushed himself up from the pallet bed. “You do not echo my feelings for you. I should not expect that kind words and reformed behaviours would change that.”

Jou’s expression seemed tortured. “Kaiba...” 

He chuckled. “That is not one of my many names, Joseph Wheeler. That is the name of my kingdom.” He tried for humour to wash away the sour conversation. “When you address me as such, you address the entire kingdom.” He tilted his head. “It would be suitable for you to call me by my given name, however.”

“Set,” Jou corrected, nodding to himself. “You should know...” He sighed, folding his arms across his chest and looking away. “It’s not you. It’s me.” 

The king twisted his face up--that was such a deceiving explanation. It was clearly him at fault; no matter how much Jou might soothe his feelings by pretending otherwise. 

“I’ll leave you to your readings,” he said, heading toward the door. 

“Set...?” He turned to look at Jou, hoping he was at least a little successful at hiding how exhausted he felt. The blond lost the resolve in his demeanour. “You forgot your crown.”

The king turned his eyes to it and felt an irrational stab of hatred just laying his eyes on the silver. He gestured instead to indicate Jou should bring the crown to him. 

Steady hands plucked the crown from the tablecloth. “Oof,” he said with some surprise, “it’s heavy.”

“Quite,” Set agreed softly. He watched Jou take the two steps it took to stand before him, ready to reach up and take the crown from his hands. 

Instead, Jou squinted his eyes slightly at his face before lifting the crown up and placing it over his head to settle against his brow. “I don’t know how you wear that thing.”

The king gave a morose chuckle. “With a proud neck,” he answered. 

The hands gently moved down from his temples to gently cup either side of the king’s face. Jou’s hands were warm. Set looked at the warm earthy eyes that were filled with secret torments. 

Jou’s eyes dropped down to settle on the king’s own lips; Set followed suit and followed the quick dart of tongue as it wet the dry lips. The blond stepped closer, head tilting up to bring their lips together. 

It was too tempting to allow the gesture to continue. “No,” he said firmly. 

Jou’s eyes went wide and he stepped back, a flush covering his face before he turned it away. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

Set nodded gravely. He had expected as much. “Would you join me as my guest for the feast tomorrow?” 

The blond frowned a little. “I guess so. Are there any rules I should know about eating this time?”

He shifted, feeling a twist of guilt. “Just what you learned last time. Nobody does anything before the king, sit, eat, leave. Try to eat at a sedate pace with the best table manners you know how to use.” He adjusted the fit of his doublet, thinking it might be out of place. “It’s a feast. It will be much less formal than the banquet.”

Jou just gave the awkward smile that gave away the fact he hadn’t understood exactly what the king had said, but didn’t think it worth the time to ask for further clarification. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll send for you after noon for your toilette. Goodnight, Joey Wheeler.”

“Goodnight, Set.”


	7. Chapter VII

The bath was scalding hot, almost too hot to be bearable. But he thought it might be the last hot water he got in a while and grit his teeth until he was used to the temperature. The soap was still too chemical, burning his skin until it was washed off. He wasn’t obsessed with having soft, smooth skin like Mai and her two-hour moisturisation routine, but it would still be nice to not have a whole body of skin that felt like the rough skin from his elbows. 

He dried off, cringing at the white and grey flakes of skin that gathered in the wake of a towel. One time after the beach with Mokuba, the skin of his shoulders had been burned a vicious, almost purple red, and peeled over the next couple of days. The dying skin had looked the same as it did then. He wondered what the hell was in the soap he’d been forced to use.

The same maid who’d led him from the dungeons led him to the same room he’d used before the last dinner. “Could I get some shaving cream?” He asked her before she left. She gave him a confused look but said she’d bring up some lather for him to use. 

He found his intended clothes on the same table as previously. He tugged on the drawstring underpants, clinching them tightly around his waist. 

“Hobson,” a familiar voice sounded from the other room, “it is the Red Dragon festival. You have a family to be getting home to. I won’t need your assistance.”

“If you are quite sure, your majesty,” came the reply of the king’s valet. 

Joey sat on the long bench at the end of the bed, waiting for the maid to return with his shaving stuff. He saw with a blush as Kaiba walked into the view of the mirror hanging on the wardrobe. He was dressed on a bathrobe, the hair on his head ruffled and wet. 

Before Joey could call out a greeting, the robe dropped and he found himself staring open-mouthed at the naked king’s reflection. Saliva pooled in his mouth, eyes roving over the muscular torso and wide shoulders. The king picked up a clay bottle from his vanity table and tipped something into his hand. He could only stare, still as a statue, watching Kaiba rub a glistening oil into his naked skin. 

Just as those hands were massaging oil into the dimpled lower back and sliding lower, the maid re-entered the room loudly. “I brought lather from the barber,” she said, giving him a suspicious look. “Was that all?”

Joey nodded, getting to his feet and crossing to take it from her with an embarrassed thank you. He didn’t dare go back to the bed or even return to the mirror at all. Instead he headed to the small shaving mirror hung on the wall. Stirring up the painted clay bowl of shaving cream, he used the little brush to cover his sparse beard. Then he picked up the shaving blade and...

Faltered.

In principal it was easy. The right angle, don’t press too hard, careful around the tricky bits...

“Need a hand?” 

Joey jumped, the blade clattering to the ground, barely missing his toes. “Don’t scare me like that, Set!” he scolded, embarrassed. He searched him out in the shaving mirror.

The king was leaning against the open doorway, dressed in the same kind of underpants as Joey himself, and a loose cotton shirt. It was parted all the way down to his belly button, and Joey allowed himself a moment to perv on the pecs and abs before he made himself crouch down and pick up the shaving blade. 

“I’ve never used something like this before.”

“It takes some skill to use a straight edge razor,” Set agreed. He came further into the room, bare feet padding lightly on the stones. “Take a seat. I’ll help you.” Joey could have refused, but he’d already embarrassed himself enough without cutting half his face off. He took a nearby seat and watched Kaiba approach. “Slide down, so your head is arched back. Like in a barber’s chair.” 

“You assume I’ve been in one,” he mumbled, slumping down in his chair and lying his head back over the backrest. 

Kaiba took the shaver out of his hand grabbed a nearby handtowel. “You seem to be doing well enough.”

The king loomed over him the blade in one hand. Joey remembered in succession every horror movie he’d seen, and also that Sweeney Todd he’d seen at Ryou’s house. He tensed, prepared for a fight, but instead the blade gently scraped the underside of his chin. Kaiba wiped the razor on the handtowel and then went back to work. 

Joey gradually relaxed and the king looked down at him, smiling softly. “How long were you watching me oil my skin?”

His face burned with embarrassment and he darted his eyes away. He didn’t answer, but the tone of Kaiba’s voice told him that he didn’t really want an answer. He felt a warm hand on his bare shoulder and his flush deepened—he’d forgotten he was shirtless. A smooth hand traced down to the bottom of his sternum. “Your skin flushes to such expanse.”

“Quit it,” Joey mumbled, trying to push at the stroking hand. 

Kaiba chuckled and moved the hand back to his shoulder, continuing the shave. Not long after, he stepped away. “By the white dragon, you look much younger clean-shaven.”

“I’m only twenty years old,” he complained, “I can’t look that young.” 

Kaiba made a surprised sort of hum, heading over to Joey’s pile of clothes and passing him the shirt. It was much softer than the fabric he was used to — even softer than the one Kaiba had given him last time. He tugged it on, glad to have the barrier of cloth between his scarred torso and the king’s studious eyes. The tight pants were next, noting with some surprise that they were black leather. They laced up easily at the front, ending halfway down his calf. They’d probably be even shorter than that on Kaiba. 

“I’ll go dress,” Kaiba said in a low voice, passing through the doorway into the other room. 

Joey picked up the jacket from the table, surprised. It was a rich red, detailed with black thread. He slid it on, frowning slightly at the snug fit. He was used to his clothes behind wide on his frame. How far back in his wardrobe did Kaiba have to go to get something that fit him?

He looked around and headed into the other bedroom. “Hey, was I supposed to get shoes?” He froze, however, and stared.

Kaiba was dressed in blue, as normal, but there were black jewels sewn in to fabric in the shape of a skeletal dragon. When he turned around, two ruby eyes stared unblinkingly at Joey. “The summer festival is traditionally barefoot... Jou? Are you quite alright?”

“Red eyes,” he replied, the image sinking through his brain, “red-eyes black dragon.”

Kaiba gave a slight glance down at his jacket. “Yes,” he replied. “The red dragon. The guardian of the summer.” He crossed over to his vanity table, “I forget you’re not from here. Every child learns about the four dragons.” He picked up the small, thin crown and settled it onto his forehead. “The gold dragon of autumn, the blue dragon of winter, the green dragon of the spring and,” he gestured at his shirt.

It seemed a bit like Chinese dragon mythology, but not spot on. Bakura really didn’t research all that well. 

Kaiba combed his hair back, tried to hold it into place for a few moments, then turned to Joey. “Ready to go?”

He almost reached for his hand, but instead he placed them beside his hair with his normal ‘I am cool’ look. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

Joey expected them to go to the banquet hall again, but instead Kaiba led him out to a large balcony overlooking the palace courtyard. There were candles and lanterns hung all over, the place crowded with people dressed in red and black and pale blue. They cheered loudly as they saw the king at the edge of the balcony. He raised a hand to wave and eventually they settled. He made a short speech about the red dragon and the warm, long summer. 

Afterward, Kaiba turned back to Joey and led him back to the banquet hall. The usual collection of courtiers were gathered around, talking amongst themselves. They fell quiet, bowing respectfully to the king as the two of them entered. Joey blushed in embarrassment and bowed to his back so it wouldn’t seem as if he was the one being bowed to. 

“Enough formality,” Kaiba laughed. “Let’s begin the feast.”

He crossed to the long table, laden down with covered dishes and set with a table settling in front of each chair. He took a seat, and then the Queen moved into place. Her face was pleasant and looked between all the guests, but Joey somehow got the impression that he was being glared at.

After she was seated, the rest of the court took their seat. Once again, the seat to the left of Kaiba was free, so that’s where he sat down. Kaiba reached and pulled off the nearest cover off of the tray, revealing some kind of roast meat dripping with gravy. There was an absence of servants in the hall, and the rest of the table followed suit with the uncovering. Joey’s own tray revealed a handful of bread rolls studded with nuts. 

Joey watched carefully. The king sliced a few cuts of meat for himself, then laid them on his own plate. A roll from Joey’s tray and a scoop of vegetables from the tray in front of the person to his right. Once his plate was full, he took a bite of a small carrot and then the rest of the table reached for the feast in the middle.

Joey waited, silent. He grabbed a roll from the tray and ate it, watching the table carefully. He didn’t want to make a joke of himself again. He jumped a little when a fork placed a few slices of meat onto his plate. He darted a look at Kaiba, whose face was impassive. He murmured a grateful thanks and picked up his knife and fork to begin eating.

After two plates of food, Kaiba sat back in his throne-like chain and held a goblet of wine in his hands as he observed the table. Far beneath it, Joey felt a hesitant brush against his foot. Joey fought to smother his blush, gently nudging his foot against the other. A small smile settled across the king’s—slight, natural, as if something he heard had amused him. Underneath the table, the bare foot gently grazed Joey’s ankle. 

Joey shifted in his seat, as he reached for a scoop of butter-soaked vegetables, to free his second foot. He grabbed Kaiba’s playful foot between the two of his own to immobilise it. Never one to be outdone, the other one of the king’s feet started sliding up the bare skin of the calf. 

A feminine screen broke the moment. Joey leapt to his feet immediately, turning towards the source of the sound. The big bowl of soup in was frothing with familiar looking purple smoke. “Bakura,” he growled, then reached for the big knife from the roast dinner.

The laugh preceded his appearance. Bakura appeared, ghostly pale with long white hair, clad in skin tight black leather with a long red jacket like he’d worn as the thief king in the memory world. “Hello King Set,” he greeted, stepping out of the cloud of shadow magic to the table. The trays of food flung off sideways as if he was a reverse magnet. “I got your message.”

Kaiba remained in his seat, giving a diplomatic kind of smile. “High King,” he greeted, “I was not aware my message included an invitation to join the feast. But you’re welcome to join us. I’m sure we can find you a seat.”

Bakura continued to walk down the table, trays and plates flying off and clattering against the walls or cowering guests. “You have someone I want.”

“And I’m sure you understood the message,” Kaiba replied, his voice pleasant but unyielding. “I’m not allowing you to harm the wolf. He is under my protection.”

“I’m afraid it’s not your decision,” Bakura declared. With a dramatic hand movement, a ball of fire sparked to life in his hand. He tossed it violently in Joey’s direction. 

He crouched, holding his hands in front of his face. Before he could feel the heat and the burn, there was a crackle as it struck something. He looked up to see a blue force field between him and the burning out fireball. Joey straightened himself and glanced at Kaiba. He was holding up a lazy hand, as if silencing someone he did not want to speak. He let it drop down to the table and the force field blinked out. 

“Your highness,” King Set said, smiling slightly. “I believe we’re at an impasse.”

Bakura laughed again, hysterical. Joey wondered just how insane the former spirit was at this stage. “Well.” He took another few steps, stopping not far from Joey. “I’ll let you keep your pet for now. But he can’t stay in your protection forever. A wild animal doesn’t like a cage.”

“Fuck you,” Joey growled, gripping the knife tightly. “Fight me, you bastard!”

Bakura laughed. “Haven’t lost your bite, I see.” He turned his attention back to Kaiba. “The moment he steps out of the palace without you, he’s mine. Understand?”

Kaiba smiled and tilted his head politely. “I understand, your highness. Can I persuade you to join us for the festival?” 

“I’m afraid I am much too busy,” Bakura said, turning a smirk on Joey. “I have vengeance to be getting on with. I’m sure you know what I mean!”

Joey growled at him. “Damn it, Bakura! Where are they?”

Bakura laughed. “Our Pharaonic friend is in a pyramid in the centre of the desert. But what does that matter to you, Wheeler? You’re not leaving this palace.” 

He turned around and started walking back down the table. “Fucking bastard!” Joey shouted. He pulled his arm back and tossed the knife in Bakura’s direction. It landed in the former spirit’s shoulder with a messy sound. He whirled around with an angry roar. “Your death will be slow, foolish mortal! I will see to that!” 

He thrust out a hand. Kaiba raised a shield, but the shadows formed around Joey’s feet. He jumped back, but a shadow-puppet like cobra formed from the mist. It reared back and plunged its fangs into Joey’s chest. He gasped, like freezing water had just filled his lungs. He stumbled back, clutching his chest as the snake dissolved in the air. He blacked out to the sound of Bakura’s laughter.

///

Bakura stumbled as he returned to his tower. “Insolent fucking shit!” he roared furiously. He leaned one hand on the vanity desk with magic mirror, trying to reach his other arm behind him to yank out the knife.

“What’s happened?” Malik asked, bustling in. He froze in the doorway, staring for a few moments. Then he hurried over. “Stop, brace yourself on the table.” He picked up a wooden comb from the tabletop and brought it up to Bakura’s mouth. “Bite down on this.”

Bakura snapped forward like an angry snake, teeth clenching tightly around the wooden handle. Still, he felt his teeth creek beneath his pained scream as Malik yanked the knife out of his arm and pressed some fabric to the wound. He spat it out as soon as he felt in control of his reactions. “He will die choking on his own breath!”

Malik tossed the bloody knife aside. “I’m taking your gloat did not go well?” 

“Does my _open wound_ give you any indication that it went well, idiot?” Bakura shouted back at him. This was his body, his form, he couldn’t restrain the pain by forcing Ryou to feel it like he had done with stab wounds previously. 

“That knife looks dirty. Was it clean?” Malik asked, ignoring his insult. 

“He picked it up from a plate, I doubt it,” Bakura growled, gritting his teeth. 

“Well,” Malik said, reaching for something on the table. “This is going to hurt.” 

There was the pop of a cork being pulled out, and a familiar smell filled the room. “What the fuck is--” Bakura dissolved into a scream as something burning was poured directly into the wound. “I will have your heart beating in my hand!”

“Can you vanish your clothes? They’re filthy.”

“I’ll vanish your fucking lungs,” he snarled back, “see how well you torture a king then!”

“It’ll hurt you more if I have to undress you.” 

Bakura growled and focussed his magic. The clothes dissolved into shadows, leaving him naked and writhing in pain. “Fuck! That hurt!” Hands were guiding him to the bed and he lay on it, hugging a pillow tight to his chest. “The world will burn at my feet!”

“Mhmm,” the voice said, the tone as if he was humouring a child. There was the sound of tearing fabric and once the pain had receded a bit, he felt bandages being tightly wrapped around his shoulders. “That’ll have to do,” the voice continued, “I’ll see if I can figure out to use your magic mirror. I’ll call a healer to you.”

“Ryou,” Bakura growled. “Get his ungrateful, pale ass up here.”

“Get some rest. I’ll do my best.”

Bakura clenched his eyes shut, and let the seductive darkness bring him back to her embrace.

///

Joey almost believed for a moment, that he was back in Domino City, waking up in Mai’s luxurious silk-laden bed. But the bedsheets weren’t made of silk and the mattress seemed far too squishy to be the posture-perfect cloud Mai slept in. It was too quiet. There was nature noises outside the window, but nothing in the bedroom. No almost-inaudible squeal of electricity, not the soft sound of Mai’s breathing, or the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, or the ticking of the alarm clock. 

He opened his eyes and saw a somehow familiar pale blue bed canopy. Sitting up, groggy from tiredness, he looked around the room. It was his post-bath dressing room. There was his towel still draped half-off the table. He slipped his feet out of the bed and cringed a little as they hit the freezing stone of the ground. Usually he put off getting off his straw bed in the dungeon cell for as long as possible. 

He was dressed in a long nightshirt sewn with what was probably meant to be a red-eyes dragon. He tugged it as low as it would go and padded quietly across the room. He leaned in the doorway, squinting tiredly into the room beyond. A familiar figure was sitting in a table, book in his hands. His eyes were closed, however, head lowered onto his chest. The chest rose and fall in an even, but not quite deep rhythm. King Set was probably just on the edge of his sleep.

Joey nearly let him rest, but the brown leather slung over the too-wide shoulders looked too familiar. “Is that my jacket?”

A long-fingered hand reached up and held the collar in a possessive sort of grip. “No,” the king lied. He lifted his head and smiled tiredly. “You woke up.” 

“You sound relieved,” Joey commented, coming in and taking a seat in the chair set up across from the king. “Was I dead or something?”

“No, thank the red dragon,” Kaiba murmured. “But the High King cast black magic on you. We weren’t sure what it was supposed to do.”

“Well,” Joey said, smiling. “Here I am, fit as a fiddle.” The king smiled again, but his expression was still clearly relieved. “What are you doing out here anyway? Don’t you have your own bed to get to?”

Kaiba’s eyes darted to the open doorway and the bedroom beyond. “Not exactly.” 

It took the implied meaning a moment to sink through Joey’s sleep-foggy mind and he chuckled. “Talk about a bed fit for a king.” He smiled. “No wonder you thought my hay bale was the most uncomfortable thing you’ve ever touched in your life.”

The king’s hair was even more of a disordered mess than it had been at the feast, his face tired despite the relieved expression. He was still dressed from dinner, with Joey’s jacket draped over his shoulders like a kid’s comfort blanket. 

“Is this your nightgown?”

Kaiba’s mouth twitched in a smile and mouthed the word ‘nightgown’. He shook his head. “No, my dragon is the blue,” he answered. “The night shirt is yours. It’s an emblem of protection,” he explained.

Joey smiled. His red eyes, gone from the trusty duel monster to his apparent guardian. “Why’d you choose him?” He asked, gesturing at the thread dragon. 

Kaiba smiled slightly, teeth flashing in the dim room. “You’re made of fire, Joseph Wheeler. Anyone can see that.” He sat back. “The red dragon is also the guardian of fire,” he added, as if remembering Joey didn’t know his mythology. If he was going to say anything else, it was interrupted by a wide-mouthed yawn. 

“You should sleep,” Joey coaxed, getting to his feet.

Kaiba just hummed to agree. He got to his feet, wavering a little. He slid off the jacket and carried it into the bedroom. It was set down on the bench, then with a momentary blue glow, his clothes were replaced with a blue nightshirt similar to Joey’s--plain white though, no guardian dragons for him. 

He slipped under the bed and closed his eyes. Joey stood awkwardly at the bedside for a moment, before turning to go back into the other room. 

“Stay.”

Joey hesitated, turning his head to look at Kaiba. He looked small under the blankets, his eyes closed and a carefully blank expression on his face. “You better not snore.” He walked around to the other side of the bed and slid under the blankets, shivering a little at their chill. Between them, the bed warmed quickly.

The last thing he saw before settling to sleep was a content, dreamy smile on Kaiba’s unconscious face.


	8. Chapter VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter.

King Set’s eyes opened as he heard Hobson come through the door and placed his breakfast tray on the table. There was a mess of blond hair in front of his eyes, and a warm hard body pressed up against his chest. Given the lack of curves, it was most likely a man--though it could be one of those warrior women that passed through on occasion. Trying to recall whether he’d had any amazonian guests woke up the rest of his memories and he didn’t bother to hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

He hadn’t gotten out of bed yet; he didn’t have to act the stoic king quite yet. Instead, he nuzzled into the mess of blond hair and inhaled deeply. A spark like nature magic flashed through his blood and he felt the slight tension of being awake melt away like the first snow of winter. He pressed closer, hugging the warm body closer. 

Jou gave a low snore at the shift, but settled back in his arms.

“Sire...”

“Hobson,” Set warned. “I’m not awake yet.”

“The queen is demanding to speak with you,” the valet explained quietly. “She said to pass along the message that if you refuse, she will come to you instead.”

“In five years of marriage, the queen has never once come to my bedroom. I don’t believe she will do so today.” As an extra precaution, however, he would cast a ward around the entrances of his rooms. She was the exact sort of spoiled woman who would enter his rooms for the first time simply in a pique of jealousy. “You are dismissed, Hobson. I will call for you when I deem fit.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The door closed behind him and Kaiba shifted, sticking a toe out of the bed to touch against the floor so he could activate the wards around his rooms. Having done that, he tucked it back inside the blanket and shifted closer.

“Mai,” Jou whined, “your feet are cold.”

A burst of jealousy burned through his chest, combating the warm contentment of the morning bed. “Who under the blue flag is Mai?” He demanded.

Every muscle of the man in his arms tensed up with a sharp intake of breath. “Kaiba.”

King Set frowned slightly. Jou had been better at using his name in conversation so far... “Set,” he reminded him warily.

“Didn’t peg you for a cuddler,” the blond said, but the attempt at humour fell flat in the remaining tension. “I need to piss, let me up.” 

He pulled away, turning onto his back and looking up at the bed canopy. “There’s a door at the back of the other room behind the waterfall tapestry. The watercloset is in there.”

Jou didn’t acknowledge his words, merely stood up, tugging his nightshirt down. 

“Tell me before you try to leave. I’ll have to lower the wards.” 

Silence, again. Then the gentle noise of footsteps exeunt. The warmth of the morning had left like the rain puddles of a summer morning shower. Despite the growing heat of the day, Set felt cold.

He stood from the bed, taking a light dressing robe from his wardrobe. With protectiveness and a little spite, he put away the hunting coat and locked the wardrobe door to his hand. The dining chair was hard and uncomfortable, the food felt gritty and tasted like ash. He glared at the tray as he heard Jou come out from the other room.

“I did not know you guys had toilets,” he declared. “I have to piss in a bucket downstairs.” If he expected an answered, he seemed unperturbed at none forthcoming. He sat next to the king and leaned over. “Can I...?”

Set shoved the tray at him. “Eat your fill.” 

The blond did so, immediately stuffing his mouth with food. “God, this is good stuff,” he groaned, “you get the best food. All I get is stale bread and milk.”

“I offered you a guest room,” he said quietly. “You chose to remain in the dungeons of your own free will.”

Jou merely grunted, still eating the food. 

The room throbbed as someone struck the ward. Set glanced at it, then turned his attention back to the blond. He was tense, fists balled as if ready for a hand-to-hand fight. “What was that?”

“The wards,” Set answered calmly. “Probably the queen. She’s not particularly happy with me this morning.” 

“Why?” Jou asked, confused. 

“I’m guessing it has something to do with the interruption to the feast last night,” he answered. “I will deal with her when I am ready.”

Getting to his feet, he excused himself and headed into the other room. A gesture with his hand formed a door in the arch, solid and wooden between them. He needed time to compose himself around his disappointment. 

Jou’s rejection still stood. A near-death experience and a night sharing a bed didn’t miraculously change that. He had let his desires cloud his judgement, but his resolve was strong. There was the matter of the high king’s threat--Jou would have to stay in the palace now. 

Come the end of Summer, Set and his court would have to return to the mountain castle. If the confrontation with the high king had continued as amicable as it had initially proceeded, he might have trusted that the travel between the palaces would easily be negotiated. Jou’s violence had soured that prospect however. He would have to stay at the summer palace with a small number of staff to serve him.

That would be better for the king’s resolve as well. He had lingered amongst his unrequited desires for long enough. He was now determined to do what Jou’s initial rejection ought to have inspired: he would move beyond his desires.

There were freshly laundered clothes folded on the stand by the other door. The laundry maids must have been in before he woke up. He quickly dressed in something in his colours--he needed the strength of the kingdom behind his resolve. His long white audience cloak was hung neatly over a chair. He’d left it in Jou’s cell the day before last, the servants must have gathered it.

He pinned it on place, feeling the protective white mantel hang heavy on his shoulders. There was a small token of the blue dragon in the drawer, which he folded and tucked inside his doublet. A small murmur of a prayer and the lightest spell to keep his emotions calm, and he was prepared to return to the other room.

He opened the door, pausing mid-step as he saw Jou just on the other side of the wood, his brows folded in a confused frown. No... Jou was too tender a name for their changing acquaintance.

“Joseph,” he said, surprised. “Have you finished your meal?”

“Yeah...” The frown deepened a little. He shook his head, the tension in his forehead smoothing out. “I thought we should talk about last night.”

King Set nodded. “That would be wise,” he agreed. He stepped into the room, feeling the comforting weight of the cloak around his shoulders. If it wasn’t so damnably heavy, he would have worn his crown as well. “I cannot release you from the palace. The high king has announced as much.”

“I can fight for myself,” Joseph argued, raising his chin defiantly. 

“Against the mad king on high?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. His judgement was cold, he knew that the wildman was no match for the king or his black magic. “You will stay here under my protection. Given the permanent nature of your stay, I’ll reoffer you this choice: would you like a guest room in the palace? A lifetime in a dungeon is certainly nothing to look forward to.”

Joseph’s eyebrows pulled together again. “Set...?” 

“Yes, Joseph?”

“You seem... different.” 

“This is a grave matter,” the king answered, giving him a steady look. “I have brought you under my protection; so by my honour you shall be safe.”

“Is...” Joseph faltered. “Is that it?”

“Is that insufficient for my motives?” The king asked, raising an eyebrow. The wildman was silent. He continued, “so shall I have my servants prepare you a room?

“Yeah,” Joseph said quietly. “I guess there’s no point to staying there now.”

Something ticked in the king’s mind. It was if those words were meant to stir some meaning for him, but his emotions remained unmoved by the phrase. He nodded. “Very good. I will see to it now.”

He left the wildman standing silent in his room, staring after him.


	9. Chapter IX

Joey walked out the front doors of the Kaiba summer palace. In the middle of the day. There was no one around to stop him.

There were servants of course but none of them cared whether he was there or not. The king had been gone for three weeks. The weather had turned, cold wind blowing browning leaves off trees, then the next week the court had left. The colder half of the year was to be spent in the mountain castle. 

At first, Joey had been glad that the king had left… 

King Set had changed. He was more like the Kaiba he knew than ever. Except… 

He glanced back at the palace, his chest tight with emotion. 

Joey had gotten used to King Set—or rather, Set. The lonely kind who’d had no one for honest company but a prisoner miles below his social standing. There had been a warmth to Set that Kaiba had only echoes reserved for his younger brother. But after… after the summer festival…

Kaiba had been different. Unflinching and uncaring in the face of anything. A woman had come to the audience, her family home and her eldest son killed in a fire started by hot coals in the cooking oven. The king had granted her funds and a royal carpenter’s assistance in rebuilding the home, but had shown no sympathy for the dead child; and had only granted that little help after scolding her for nearly fifteen minutes about protecting herself from further idiocy.

Joey’s room had been further down the hall than the king’s—he’d initially thought that king would still come visit him in the afternoons to unwind from the day. It’d taken a couple of weeks waiting like the dog Kaiba had used to call him; no, like a schoolgirl with crush waiting for her phone to ring. Two weeks waiting until he had given in the knowledge that the king no longer wanted to be around him.

The worst part might have been the looks from the servants and other members of the court, as if he was the one to blame for the king’s changed behaviour. One bold countess had been so bold as to suggest that Jou had cursed the king with darkness.

Instead of reassuring her, the king had laughed, the sound chilling, and declared, “Joseph is weak and powerless. As if he could best me.”

His breathing was tight as he remembered…

He’d gone to see Kaiba. After what the courtier had suggested. The king had been cordial, inviting him into the left side room—it had been little more than a changing room previously, but now the dining table had been moved into it. The desk was laden with maps and letters, which he’d vanished with a lazy wave before commanding Joey to sit.

The conversation that followed… Joey could barely remember what they’d talked about. (It might have had something to do with how Joey was enjoying his stay in the palace and if he had any complaints to make about the servants.) The only thing he could remember was the way King Set had acted towards him.

It was Seto Kaiba at his worst. The Kaiba who stole beloved cards from old men, who threatened to fall off a castle tower if he lost a card game. It was the Kaiba who’d had his dark history stripped open in front of his brother while trapped in a virtual world, who lost the strongest card he’d ever held in a tournament he’d held to regain his championship. It was the Seto whose rough schematics for a smart phone had been stolen for by the boyfriend who had been using him for corporate espionage, the same week Joey had been put in hospital preventing Mokuba from being kidnapped.

Cold. Emotionless. Ruthless. So… so _hurt_ that he’d had to bury his feelings until he was in a comfortable place he could deal with them properly.

Joey took a deep breath, weak and shallow and shaking. He hoped King Set had found his safe place to sort through his feelings in his mountain home. 

He, however, couldn’t stay in the seaside palace any more. He had to check Mokuba was okay, and then he had to find some safe way to cross the desert and get to Yami. Somehow he’d convince him that he was meant to save the world by kissing a boy he’d never met before.

He took another tight breath, rubbing his forehead. He slipped into the cover of trees, sitting on the ground and unrolling the map he’d stolen from one of Kaiba’s cupboards. He guessed it was the map Kaiba had been using to track him, because there were slices like pie stretching across from a central point, some crossed out with an ex. Best he could tell, the road Kaiba had dragged him on was the scenic route—if he crossed straight through the forest it was at least half the distance. 

His breath felt tight at the thought of walking so far alone, but he steeled his resolve. It was early in the day, he had a leather bottle of water from the palace to keep him hydrated. 

By noon, he was sitting under a tree by a small creek. He was drenched in sweat and wheezing—no matter how deeply he tried to breathe, he couldn’t catch his breath. Dizziness swept over him in waves. Had he really become so unfit? Another cough as if that would clear his head, but it only left him more exhausted. 

“You’re an idiot you know.”

He grunted. “Shut up, Kaiba.” 

“Not my name.”

He turned his head, hardly believing his eyes as he saw King Set standing on the other side of the creek. He was dressed in the same brown-leather hunting gear he’d been wearing the first time he’d attacked. His demeanour, however, was the same cold blankness he’d gotten used to.

“How’d you find me?” Joey asked, wincing at how rough his voice sounded. From all the coughing, most likely. 

“I knew once you had decided to make your escape, your movements would be predictable,” the king replied. “You took longer than I thought. I thought you’d risk finding your brother the same day we left.”

Joey stayed silent. The king’s face was flush and slick with sweat. He’d probably ridden hard from the mountain palace to get here. It was nice to see Kaiba dishevelled when he himself finally felt like he was catching his breath back. 

“You’re not going to stop me from going to Mokuba,” he said, reaching for his nearly-empty water bottle.

“I suspected as much,” the king replied. “So I am going to make a deal. And you know that I am a man of honour.”

“What do you want?” He demanded.

Set lifted a hand. Blue light stretched from it light a spotlight. It felt warm as it sunk into Joey’s skin. “I have given you three day’s protection from black magic,” he announced. “In exchange, you will collect your brother and bring him to the inn. You will both be under my protection.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to agree or not,” Joey growled, getting to his feet.

“You have already broken one deal with me,” the king reminded him. “This time, I will take better precautions.” He smirked. “If you’re not at the inn directly north from your glade in three days, I will hunt your brother and kill him as penance. Since you’ve proved _not_ to be a man of honour.” He offered a hand forward and it glowed with the same blue light. “You will swear an oath that you will return to me with your brother.”

Joey looked at the hand, hardly knowing a word for the twisted emotions that were crawling through his chest. He reached forward and clasped the hand, feeling the magic burning hot against his skin. “I swear to you, Seto Kaiba,” he said, meeting his eyes, “I will return to you with Mokuba.”

The king’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but the magic entwined their hands like some Harry Potter magic and blinked out. “Three days, Joseph. Then my safeguard against black magic runs out. You won’t have to deal with only my wrath, but also the High King’s.” 

He nodded. By tomorrow he’d be back inside the tree shelter; and Kaiba’s technology had proven to safeguard against magic before. He’d be safe. He wouldn’t be able to leave again, like he’d done during his first stay. But he would have Mokuba for company, and he knew the outside world now. It wasn’t his plot to go to Yami but…

Given time, the two kings would probably give up looking for him. Then he’d be able to continue his goal. But for now… 

For now he’d go home to Mokuba and ensure he was alright. 

///

“You weak kitten,” Malik said. “Your shoulder was fixed weeks ago. Stop fishing for pity.”

“I will have you know,” Bakua retaliated, a smile tugging involuntarily at his lips. “That it still twinges when it rains.” 

“It’s not raining.”

“It will.”

Malik chuckled, coming over. “Fine. Your bed’s been changed,” he said. “I’ll help you back to your desk.”

“I can walk,” he answered, rolling his eyes.

“Oh,” the former Egyptian said with some surprise. “Then why are you still sitting by the window?”

“It’s a nice view,” he replied, eyes lingering across the landscape. 

“Isn’t today the night after that king’s ultimatum?” Malik reminded him, confused. “Don’t you want to be watching for that?”

“No,” he said with some surprise. “I don’t care one way or the other.” He glanced back and saw Malik watching him with surprise. “What I mean by that is that the altercation is likely going to take place in a place blocked by my magic. There’s no point to my looking.”

Malik smiled indulgently, but his eyes showed that he didn’t buy his quick cover up in the slightest. “Well. Perhaps you can find some other way to occupy your time.” 

“I’m sure you can come up with a suggestion.”

Afterwards, deep into the darkest part of night, Bakura held the tanned, muscular body against him with a smile. “I used to look like you, as it happens,” he murmured. Malik was mostly asleep, exhausted from the handful of ecstasies Bakura had dragged out of him. “Rougher, and more bulk, but more like you than this form.” 

“What happened?” Malik mumbled, stroking his hand through the tangled white tresses. 

“A pharaoh slaughtered everyone I knew... my entire village... And a dark god turned me into a spirit of vengeance.” He snuggled deeper under the blankets, resting his head on Malik’s chest and listening to the sturdy throb of the heartbeat. “I waited five thousand years to enact my vengeance; and then when I failed I was given this form. A chance at a human life.”

“But?” Malik murmured, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. 

“It wasn’t enough,” he whispered hatefully. “I had to do all this.” 

“Do you find your vengeance bitter, Bakura?” The former Egyptian asked, his voice tired. 

“Not so much bitter,” he answered. “It tastes as sweet as it always does. I just don’t want to sup on it any more.”

“You could stop,” Malik murmured. “No more vengeance. Just you, me, and our little castle in the sky.”

“Oh my sweet desert prince,” Bakura said painfully, lifting his head. He reached up with one hand and cupped the tanned, smooth jaw. “I only have you because of my vengeance. You would leave me if you knew.”

“Would you let me be the charge of my own heart, my king?” Malik asked, sitting and adjusting Bakura’s position.

“Not like this,” he said, shaking his head. “Not while your every thought was put into your head by me.”

Malik laughed. “I may be your slave, Bakura. But I am master of my own mind.”

“Malik...” he whispered, pained.

“And my heart is mine and what it feels is true.” His hand moved up to mimic Bakura’s touch. “Were you to offer me my freedom today, I would stay by your side.” He paused, then smiled. “Might refuse to clean up your messes though.”

He chuckled sedately, overwhelmed with tiredness. “If I could break my curse today, my prince.”

“Why can you not?” Malik asked curiously.

“A queen from a world like this one gave me a curse. I modified it slightly, but the rules were written by the world itself. There are certain ways that curses are broken in worlds like this.” 

Malik paused, meeting his eyes carefully. Then without hesitation, he leant forward and pressed their lips together. 

Bakura felt the world throb like a silent wave of thunder shuddered the air itself. He slipped his eyes shut as they burned with the weight of his grief. 

“Spirit!” The voice was so twisted, so hateful. 

“As I said,” he murmured, words like lead on his tongue. He turned his face away. 

The sharp, furious breath preceeded a slap, he had no doubt. Bakura raised a hand before it could happen and sent Malik away. 

To the mines. Rishid would remember... if he hadn’t already. He would take care of his younger brother, he always had. 

Bakura rose to his feet. He took a deep breath to steel himself, and dressed himself in something dark and dramatic. The entire nerd brigade would be baying for his blood. He would be ready to face them.

///

King Set didn’t know why he thought that he could trust the wildman to keep his word. Three days had been generous, and yet Joseph had trifled with him. Yet he was still a man of his word. He had sworn to kill the younger brother and he would.

He was away from the castle before dawn, dressed in his royal hunting wear. If he had a need for stealth, he had his magic on his side. Kisara was left at the nearest inn. She nosed him and whickered as if to convey some displeasure with the situation. He sweetened her with a sugarcube, and then left the inn. He cloaked himself as he entered the forest, hiding himself from prying eyes.

He found a comfortable patch of earth and settled to watch the clearing. He knew Joseph and his brother had been living in a tree, and he ignored his instinct; looking up at the treetops instead. The logical answer was a treehouse, but as he looked up at the treetops he saw nothing of the kind.

A hawk circled above the low branches, on the hunt for prey. He watched its arcs carefully--if it passed through an area that looked like it was warded for invisibility. The hawk’s flight looked even, but just in case the ward was neatly done, he closed his eyes and sent out a tendril of magic into the clearing to see what he could find.

The same phenomena that had drawn his attention in the first place attracted him again. That wide, old tree in the middle of clearing felt like magic... but it felt like his own. There was no discernible reason as to why his magic would be woven into the tree. 

The probed it from every angle he could conceive, but it resisted his techniques. He was entirely convinced that was where Joseph was hiding his brother. There was no explanation for now for why the magic felt like his own, but there was time to discover an answer afterwards.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was setting. He was tempted to get up and leave... but no doubt Joseph expected that of him. He summoned a cloak to wrap around his shoulders to keep him warm.

After moonrise, a blonde woman, her hair an orderly mess, entered the clearing. She looked around nervously, then approached the large tree. She placed her hand on a large knot on the trunk, and then a dark-haired male stuck his head out from the bark. 

Kaiba smirked victoriously. Well. That solved that mystery. They were, in fact, inside the tree. That made his search much shorter. The woman had given him the secret to the tree as well. There was only to wait for the perfect opportunity. 

A few hours later, the woman stepped out of the tree. She glanced back at the trunk, her expression folded into concern. But she did not linger in the clearing to wait. 

He waited two hours past midnight, then decided that was long enough. He cast off his glamour, striding towards the clearing. His cloak dragged against the ground slightly, gathering dirt and twigs around the hem. 

He stood in front of the tree, feeling his magic respond to the enchantment woven into the tree. Silently, he peeled off his glove and pressed his bare hand against the tree knot. Blood magic, or touch-wards. Either way, he felt the magic pulse through the tree and respond to the ward itself.

A section of the bark shimmered with the tell-tale sign of an enchantment. He pressed his fingers through, feeling no resistance. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room. The careful shield around his emotions disappearing along with his clothes.

Inside the door he stood in a strange cotton shirt with small, clear buttons and strange silk trousers in dark blue with a pale pinstripe. Beyond his confusion and suspicion, all he could feel was the pain of betrayal and burning rage. 

He lifted his hand, grasping his hand at magic and producing a long, sharp dagger. His eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room, and he studied his surroundings. 

Everything was made of a strange, snow white marble cut in large square tiles. What little furniture that occupied the room was made of a strange, pale silver metal with a dull sheen. 

Directly across the room for him, there was a strange sort of bed. Like sailor’s hammocks in small quarters, two beds occupied the same space, one above the other. Yet instead of cloth hammock, these were built of the same metal, stacked on one another like a four-post frame. The mattresses were made with white sheets and grey blankets.

The room was bleak, but there was Joseph’s familiar snore from the topmost hammock. A pang of longing burned through his blood, all the more powerful for its enforced delay. After his longing past, his fury took over. Jou had broken his trust, had sworn to him to bring this _Mokuba_ to him. He’d wanted to offer them both protection, but instead the wildman had somehow managed to break a sworn oath. 

He dropped his eyes down to the lower hammock. There was a boy there... nearly a man. He was probably sixteen or seventeen years of age, longer in the bed than Jou was, but standing would not quite meet his own impressive stature. 

It was strange. He could see none of Jou’s handsome features in the boy’s sleeping countenance. It was a shame he couldn’t see them awake together, watch the play of their interactions. Set yearned a little to have his own brother to bond with, but there was nothing to be done.

Perhaps if Jou hadn’t betrayed him, he could have adopted this Mokuba into his own family. His face twisted up in fury--but Jou had ruined that chance too.

He raised the knife, breathing heavy.

Jou snorted in his sleep, turned over. Set paused, worried, but then the blond opened his eyes slightly. “Kaiba?”

He twisted him mouth up in a sneer. “You broke our deal.”

He crouched low and brought the knife up to give himself power to plunge it down. “Set no!” Jou bellowed.

The room throbbed as powerful magic fractured. He felt his breath suck painfully in as Bakura’s curse changed.

He felt the self-loathing slam him before the memories properly reformed. When he realised what it was he was doing, he stumbled back, the dagger dropping to the ground. 

“Set?” Wheeler asked, unsure.

Kaiba snapped his eyes up to Joey, half-hanging off the top bunk as if he’d been prepared to launch himself if Kaiba had...

He stumbled toward the panic room’s bathroom, bending over the toilet basin as the disgust in his stomach came to the natural conclusion. 

“Joey?” Mokuba’s I-can’t-believe-you-woke-me-up-at-this-hour voice could be heard from the other room. “You okay?”

“Not me, kiddo,” Wheeler responded. 

“I didn’t hear the alarm to let Mai come back in. Then who...?” There was silence, then a scramble of footsteps. “Seto!” 

Kaiba turned his head, giving Mokuba a weak smile. “Hey there, Moki.” 

“Is... is it over?” His brother asked, twisting his shirt in his hands--an easy anxious tell. “Are we back home now?”

“No,” Joey called from the other room. “Out there. It’s still the forest. Maybe we should keep the door open for Mai, in case she remembers as well.”

Kaiba let Mokuba help him to his feet, he was finally tall enough to lean on his little brother’s shoulder. “You grew a bit.”

“About an inch. I’ll be as tall as you soon.” 

Kaiba swallowed. “How... how long has it been?” He asked anxiously.

“Six months, eight days,” he reported. “You had Joey for three months. He won’t tell me what happened.”

Kaiba felt sick again as he remembered. He swallowed down the sour saliva and shook his head. “Not now. You’re tired. I’m exhausted. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. I promise, Moki.”

“I guess it’s a long story,” Mokuba muttered, the pout obvious in his voice. 

“It is,” he answered, feeling two sets of a lifetime of memories echo. He felt older than he should. “Long and difficult. But I won’t keep it from you. Even the stuff I’d rather forget.”

“Promise?”

“Tomorrow. I promise.”

##

END OF ACT ONE

##


End file.
